


Sight Can Be Deadly

by InfiniteInspirit



Series: Unleashed Verse [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Cedric Diggory Lives, Complete, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Dark Magic Isn't Evil, Disowned Draco Malfoy, Friendship, Hogwarts Fourth Year, Lucius Malfoy Being an Asshole, Lucius Malfoy's A+ Parenting, Luna Lovegood Being Adorable, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Mentor Severus Snape, Neutral Draco Malfoy, POV Draco Malfoy, Paranoid Harry Potter, Prophetic Visions, Seer Draco Malfoy, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Visions, seer!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 90,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14305905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfiniteInspirit/pseuds/InfiniteInspirit
Summary: At a young age, Draco Malfoy discovered an interesting fact: he was a Seer, with confusing abilities that no one else seems to have ever heard of...abilities that could kill him. Determined to keep his secret, Draco is forced to seek out unusual help. Seer!Draco. AU, Fourth Year (begins before the Triwizard Tournament). First book in the Unleashed verse.





	1. Voices in Colour

Draco Malfoy was wickedly intelligent. Although his grades were quite above average, this was not where his genius lay. Instead, his distinctive gifts enabled him to read people, situations, and events with an uncanny instinct. He could take one look at a person and tell you truths concerning their personal lives that would be impossible to know for anyone else. 

Draco Malfoy was a Seer. And his Sight saw deeper into people than he could recall ever hearing or reading about. He had read every book he could get his hands on regarding Seers and their abilities. Discretely, of course: it wouldn’t do for someone to discover his secret.

It was something that Draco had kept from everyone, save a select few. A Slytherin, after all, knows better than anyone the importance of keeping strengths and weaknesses from the ears of those who are untrustworthy. Ever since the day he and his mother had discovered what he could do…what he was, he hadn’t mentioned his unique Sight to a single soul upon her frantic insistence. He was very grateful for her foresight now.

It was difficult to explain exactly how the process worked. If Draco were to describe it, he would explain one prominent aspect: people’s voices appeared in color to him. A green voice meant a vibrant, extroverted personality, often cheerful and confident. These people did fairly well in school, but were generally average in grades and excelled more in the social aspect of their lives. Green could also imply cunning, high goals, and powerful connections. Blaise Zabini, whom Draco would tentatively call a friend, was one of these voices. Pink voices implied low intelligence, naivety, or a shallow person. Those like Hermione Granger who had high intellect, tenacious loyalty, or somewhat lesser people skills had yellow voices. Most of the voices in Hogwarts were white, like Draco’s own. Draco hated white voices, especially his. White signified a lack of decisiveness, weak goals, and no strong personality traits. In other words, they had no distinctive qualities. The others within Hogwarts fell into three main categories. The majority of Ravenclaw students were yellow, Hufflepuff pink, Slytherin green, and Gryffindor a mix of the three. A few students fell outside these normal ranges, such as Harry Potter: a dull blue implying kindness, bravery, hardworking, or lack of stability. 

Every once in a while, when new students arrived, or when he visited Hogsmeade, he would encounter people with voices colored in shades he hadn’t encountered before. Also, while many people’s colors appeared almost identical, no voice was quite the same. There was always a slight shade difference, all which meant something different. While Draco developed, by this point, a general idea of what each color meant, he was always trying to learn more about what each particular hue meant. It was also true that a person’s color could change, although never suddenly. He had noticed that colors changed as the students around him matured and grew older. 

Seeing voices in color was not what made him a Seer, however. It was only one facet of a very complex magical ability he and his mother had called Sight, if only for lack of a better term. In all their research, they had never found anything quite like what Draco was able to do, despite the copious searches through the extensive Malfoy library. In fact, the way Voices manifested was rather brilliant: informative, and not invasive to his life. The more annoying bits were the bloody Flashes. Often, especially when confronted with strong emotions, glimpses into people’s motivations (or thoughts, pasts, futures, and the like) would overwhelm Draco’s mind for several moments. There was one redeeming factor regarding this ability: it could only be triggered by physical touch. Over the years he had learned to conceal the Flashes, but when he was very young, he had seemed very much the distracted, flighty child. Draco’s behavior, uncharacteristic of a Malfoy, had driven Lucius mental and resulted in many heavy punishments. 

A sneer crossed Draco’s cultured features, and he shifted in his seat as he ignored Binns drone on about the Goblin War. It was only the first week back at Hogwarts and he was as boring as ever. 

In the beginning, the Flashes had caused him to seem imbecilic, staring into space for several long moments. Before he learned to control the emotions accompanying the visions, he had behaved like an extremely hormonal pregnant woman, swinging from happy to sad to angry within a few seconds. He despised the Flashes, although sometimes they provided key insights into other people that he could use to his own benefit. The prominent reason for this loathing was simple: the Flashes were extremely personal. Often, he learned things that he never would have wanted to know about. He had caught glimpses of many intimate moments, emotional breakdowns, and sickeningly happy and sweet memories. More than anything else, though, he was confronted with what people truly thought of Draco Malfoy. That glimpse into another person’s feelings often left Draco reeling with how much they hated him without even knowing him. 

If there was one way that these abilities had affected Draco, it was that there wasn’t much he hadn’t been exposed to at a very young age. In his early years, Death Eaters had been frequent visitors to the Manor, scrambling after the Dark Lord’s downfall for a sense of purpose and a next step. As it could be imagined, the personal lives of Death Eaters could include some very depraved Flashes.  
Perhaps this desensitization contributed to Draco’s moniker of ‘Ice Prince of Slytherin.’ It was, after all, extremely difficult to ruffle someone who knew a frightening amount of information about any person he came into contact with. The Malfoy heir also had a tight rein on his emotions, due to the training he was forced to undergo in order to control himself during the Flashes. The only time he allowed control to slip was when he was alone with his Narcissa Malfoy, the only one who knew his situation. 

There was one more ability that Draco had experienced thus far, if very rarely. Three times, he had experienced…strange dreams. He was tempted to call them prophecies, but he wasn’t sure enough to do so. The first had been vague and confusing, the second frustratingly short, and the third…bizarre, but clearer than the first two. 

Because of Professor Trelawney, Divination was a laughingstock at Hogwarts. On the advice of the upperclassmen in Slytherin, Draco avoided the elective and he was glad that he had. There was nothing he could learn from the questionable Seer. No; any learning he desired had and would be done on his own time. While the general information found in texts concerning Divination was useless because of his unique talents, the exercises mentioned for increasing control and expanding the magical core in order to increase Sight were more beneficial. 

Binns’s lecture had apparently drawn to a close, so Draco gathered his things and stood, exiting the classroom. While there were a few individuals within his house, such as Blaise and Pansy Parkinson that he would consider friends, he did not fully trust them and would never confide in them. The rest of the world, he kept at a distance and could care less about. Draco had been taught from birth to be a chameleon: how to blend in with whatever crowd you needed to impress, and say the right things to make them adore you. Had he desired to make friends, he was entirely capable of manipulating anyone into a friendship. He knew what made people happy, angry, and sad. Such games had never appealed to the blonde Seer, though, so he seemed an enigma to most. 

Rich, handsome, charismatic, influential, and aloof…he was the perfect Pureblood catch. Yet, he never seemed to show an interest in anything: not friends, not romantic relationships, not classes, and definitely not the daily drama that accompanied being in a boarding school. The only thing that seemed to capture his attention at school was Quidditch, which to him was merely a hobby and a way to pass the time. 

This year would be a little different, however. Draco did have one interest that was easy to conceal from his peers: he would find someone whose life or voice interested him, and then investigate them until he understood more about his own abilities. It was one of the few ways that he could find entertainment as well as benefit himself. So little was known about Voices that he had to learn everything on his own, and this was the most interesting way he had found to do that. This year, Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament. Draco was not excited for the tournament itself so much as the interesting guests the tournament would bring to his school. Surely, in the sea of new people, he would find a few interesting ones to keep an eye on. 

As Draco made his way to Potions class, he was broken out of his thoughts by a tug on his sleeve. Turning his head slightly, he made eye contact with Pansy Parkinson, who was saying something, purple drifting from her lips. Her hand was on his arm, and Flashes flitted across his vision…Pansy with her doting parents, learning Pureblood etiquette, at Draco’s tenth birthday party sulking, kissing Theodore Nott (now that was a new one). Draco broke the contact and frowned. “What were you saying, Pans? I was lost in thought.” Pansy’s purple voice was a mix between blue and pink, indicating a hint of immaturity and shallow behavior, as well as kindness and loyalty. 

Pansy sighed dramatically. “It’s only the first day and you’re already being boring!” She lowered her voice considerably. “I was asking what you thought about the Triwizard Tournament. I personally am very interested in meeting the students from Beauxbatons. My parents considered sending me there, so I am curious what it is like.”

A smirk slowly spread across Draco’s face. “I am quite looking forward to the Tournament, actually. Perhaps it will make this year interesting.”

Pansy blinked in surprise. She had assumed, like most other things, Draco would simply dismiss the tournament as insignificant. She smiled brightly at him, agreeing. She worried about him, sometimes. He was so disconnected from his classmates, and so very cold to others. She couldn’t remember the last time he smiled or laughed and it reached his eyes. Sure, he laughed at Potter and Weasley to keep up pretenses, but she could tell he honestly didn’t care what they did and his reactions to their antics were fake. 

Something had always been different about Draco, and she was a good enough friend not to pry into his business. If there was something he wanted her to know, he would tell her. Slytherins knew not to pry into dangerous secrets. After all, they weren’t bloody Griffindors. 

They slipped into Potions, giving Professor Snape a smirk as they took their seats. Potions was the last class of the day before the welcoming feast, which had been pushed back a day to accommodate the seventh years. The class slipped by quickly. Potions had become somewhat routine to Draco as his godfather and professor were one and the same. Before he even began at Hogwarts Severus had been his Potions tutor, allowing him to advance beyond many of his classmates. In fact, Potions was the only class in which his grades were higher than Granger’s. 

After class ended, Draco cast a quick Tempus spell. An hour and a half before the welcoming feast…plenty of time to compose a letter to his mother and persuade Arcanus* to deliver it. He returned to the Slytherin dormitories with Pansy before excusing himself to write a letter. Even if he had little to say to his mother yet (he had seen her yesterday), she always expected a letter on the first day to ensure things were well. He began to pen the letter in elegant calligraphy with his new quill set.

_Mother,_

__

__

I have arrived safely and Hogwarts and things are well. I anticipate the Triwizard Tournament, and as always I am excelling in my courses. Quidditch practices begin next week, but there will be no matches due to the Tournament. 

I hope you are well. Give Father my love.

_D.L.M_

Sealing the letter with the Malfoy crest, the young Malfoy heir rose from his desk and began the long walk to the Owlery. Crabbe and Goyle joined him as he left the Slytherin common room, flanking him on either side. Draco spared them a small smirk in thanks. Walking the corridors alone as a Slytherin could be dangerous…especially for someone as notorious as Draco Malfoy. The two hulking sidekicks dissuaded many a troublemaker from causing Draco misfortune. In return, their fathers could occasionally ask favors of Lucius Malfoy. The deal benefitted all parties involved. 

Though he wouldn’t call them friends, Draco did appreciate Crabbe and Goyle’s company. Though they seemed like morons concerning academics, the two boys did have keen minds for political games and trickery. Often, he was surprised by their insights. No one knew people as well as Draco Malfoy, and he knew that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were much more than they appeared. In public, they rarely talked unless Draco was issuing orders, but in private they had participated in some interesting conversations. 

After leaving the letter with Arcanus, the three Slytherins returned to the dungeons to prepare for the welcoming feast. Draco took considerable pride in his appearance. While the welcoming feast was not a formal occasion, it did require something a little extra, more than his usual appearance. 

Blaise was waiting in the common room when they entered, reading a book. He stood and smiled. “Draco, I was waiting for you. I need your opinion on my wardrobe.” Green drifted upwards from his lips. 

Draco snorted. It was well-known that out of nearly every male student in the school, Draco was considered one of the most fashionable. His friends and year-mates often took advantage of that, asking him for fashion advice. “I am not a damn fashion consultant, but if you really can’t decide on your own I will take a look.” 

Blaise grinned. “You know we’re helpless without you, Drake!” The dark-skinned boy lead the way to their shared room, and Draco followed. “Don’t call me that: just show me what you’re deciding between.” The blonde sprawled imperiously across Blaise’s bed crossing his arms and looking impatient. 

Blaise snickered. He would never call Draco childish; the blonde Malfoy was much too serious for that. Sometimes, though, he saw glimpses of the person Draco could have been without the strict Malfoy upbringing. He preferred the person those glimpses showed him. One of the biggest oddities regarding Draco Malfoy was his extreme dislike of physical contact. Blaise had always suspected his father, Lucius Malfoy, had something to do with that. “Here, these two.” Blaise held up two silk dress shirts: one a deep purple, close to eggplant in color, and the other a dark scarlet. 

Draco glanced at the shirts, grey eyes thoughtful. “Go with the purple one. Both are acceptable, though scarlet will look odd under green robes. Like you’re secretly desiring to be a Gryffindor.” 

Blaise rolled his eyes. “If you say so…thanks, mate.” He shrugged out of his white school shirt and pulled on the eggplant-colored one. Another interesting habit that Draco displayed, despite his discrete attempts to conceal it, was staring at people’s lips as they spoke. There was never anything sexual about it, it was just an interesting personality quirk. Something that Draco had precious few of. 

Draco lazily crawled to his feet and sauntered to his own trunk, lifting the lid. He pulled a designer black long-sleeved turtleneck sweater free and changed, deciding to keep wearing his school trousers. The sweater was snug enough to display his nicely muscled body, courtesy of Quidditch. Pulling out a mirror and some hair product, he styled his hair into a messy, “just-showered” look. He always fussed with his hair for longer than was truly necessary, and today was no different. Finally, he put down the mirror and turned his attention to his hands. Draco wasn’t really the type to wear jewelry, but he did enjoy wearing rings. As always, he had a ring with the Malfoy family crest adorning his right hand. He slipped one other ring onto his hand: a serpent twisting around his left pointer finger. Satisfied with his appearance, he straightened up and reached for his wand, only to notice Blaise had been observing him the whole time. 

The dark-skinned Slytherin smiled at Draco’s raised eyebrow. “I just wonder how you do it. You’re always so put-together and perfect, not to mention intelligent and magically strong. I must admit I am envious sometimes.”

Draco sighed. “So is everyone else in the whole school.” To Blaise’s surprise, there was not a hint of arrogance in that sentence, only wearied acceptance. “It can be tiresome. Bear in mind who my father is, and you will realize that this was never really my choice.” He pulled on his Slytherin robes and twirled his wand in his hand as he left the room, leaving Blaise deep in thought. 

Crabbe and Goyle were waiting in the common room as usual, dressed in black beneath their robes as well. Draco smirked slightly to himself. Even though Crabbe and Goyle were somewhat pudgy, with Draco by their sides they made quite the intimidating trio. Draco had always taken a little bit of pleasure from that. After all, inspiring fear made others leave him alone…and more importantly, less likely to pry into his private life. As they headed to the Great Hall, Draco caught a glimpse of the Golden Trio coming to the Hall from the opposite direction and mentally sighed. He found the rivalry between himself and Potter tiresome and childish, but in order to keep his father’s suspicions away from him, he was forced to play the game. 

He schooled his handsome face into a smirk, the customary expression when confronted with Potter and his sidekicks. “Well, well. If it isn’t Potter, Weasel, and the Mudblood. I am always baffled by your complete lack of personal hygiene, Potter. Despite the dirt-poor company you keep, you at least have the Galleons to buy some nicer robes. Instead, you settle for…this.” Hating the look of his own voice, Draco gestured disdainfully at the rags Potter wore, and Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him. 

Weasley’s face turned bright red and he clenched his fist, beginning to step forward. Granger pulled him back, scowling at Draco. Potter, on the other hand, frowned deeply. “Malfoy. Of course I would run into you here. You should learn to keep your mouth shut.” A cloud of blue escaped from Potter’s mouth. 

Draco sneered. “What an intelligent comeback, Potty. At least the Mudblood has a brain.” He swept past the idiot trio, robes billowing behind him in a move reminiscent of Severus Snape, but not before he noticed the surprise on Granger’s face at the backhanded compliment. Inwardly he smiled at her shocked expression. No, Draco Malfoy was not a complete bastard, despite how he acted. After all, he could be taunting Potter about many worse things, such as his treatment at the hands of his Muggle relatives. He had been in enough spats with Potter to have gotten many Flashes of the boy’s personal life. He probably knew more about Potter than his own friends, in fact. 

He led Crabbe and Goyle to the Slytherin table, taking a seat in the very center. All the students greeted Draco. He was the ‘Prince of Slytherin,’ so even the older Slytherin students took notice of his influence. He was an important person to impress for the sake of their futures. The Malfoy name had always and always would carry a lot of weight in Wizarding circles. 

Dumbledore then announced the upcoming Triwizard Tournament, and the room went into an uproar. Very few at the Slytherin table looked surprised; most had parents in influential positions that would have heard the news and passed it along to their children already. Dumbledore continued to speak about the Tournament, mentioning that they would have two other schools as their guests and that there would be an age limit to enter the Tournament, all of which Draco had heard before from Father. After warning the students that the Champions who were chosen would stand alone, Dumbledore welcomed the students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to Hogwarts. 

While the students from Beauxbatons distributed themselves fairly evenly throughout the tables of every house, the Durmstrang boys and girls immediately moved to sit with Slytherin, making the table slightly crowded. Draco scooted to the side to make space for Viktor Krum, who had met his eyes during the dramatic entrance. The famous Seeker extended his hand to Draco. “Viktor Krum.” He said in a heavily accented voice, which appeared as a startling shade of gold that Draco hadn’t encountered before. 

Draco gave a small smile and shook Krum’s hand. “Draco Malfoy, a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I hope you enjoy your time here.” Flashes of Quidditch training and learning the Dark Arts floated across Draco’s vision at the brief contact. While Draco was unsure what gold specifically meant in a voice, he could infer that it included an intense yellow, which probably meant that Viktor was extremely intelligent and tended to be socially awkward. High motivation to succeed could be assumed as well. He released Krum’s hand and turned his attention to the other Durmstrang students who were now introducing themselves. 

It was clear to Draco that, despite their young ages, he and Viktor were the recognizable leaders of their schools, or houses in Draco’s case. Krum had immediately recognized the same, due to Draco’s central position at the table and the attention he received from the other students, who looked to him for the appropriate responses every so often. He made small talk with Viktor throughout dinner, doing his best to seem uninterested in the man’s fame despite his admiration of the seeker’s skill. While Draco enjoyed Quidditch, he knew that it could never be a career for him because of his Seer abilities. They were too distracting on the pitch. 

“I assume that the twelve representatives from each school are the ones who will enter their names into the Goblet of Fire?” Draco questioned Krum quietly. The boy nodded. “Yes, this is so. We were chosen as potential Champions based upon our exam scores and dueling proficiency. Any who is chosen will perform well in the Tasks.”

Draco smirked. “I imagine so. I have heard that Durmstrang Institute is much more liberal concerning the Dark Arts. My father preferred to have me complete my schooling in Durmstrang, but unfortunately he listened to my mother’s wishes instead. I rather think I would have preferred the teaching style at Durmstrang. Many of the professors here have little to offer.” He thought of Professor Trelawney with an inward scowl. How much more could he have learned about his own abilities with a competent Seer as a professor? At least if Durmstrang had no access to such a professor, they would not bother to teach the course. 

Viktor Krum nodded seriously. “I have increased my skills greatly during my time at Durmstrang. It is a shame that Hogwarts seems to be falling below their original standards. Though, perhaps, the truly motivated students will still find it within themselves to succeed through personal studies.” His voice contained approval as he met Draco’s eyes, a slight smile crossing his lips as he complimented the Malfoy heir. 

Draco returned the smile, as was customary. “So it seems. I am curious, though, about Bulgaria. Won’t you tell me a little about your home country?” He listened halfheartedly as Viktor told many stories about his homeland, although to the observer he would seem to be giving the Bulgarian Seeker his full attention. 

After around forty minutes, the feast appeared to be drawing to a close and students began to return to their accommodations. Draco parted from the Durmstrang students on congenial terms with a friendly farewell. While the Slytherins had been perfectly composed in front of the Durmstrang students, they now began to chatter about Viktor Krum and his amazing Quidditch skills. 

Feeling a scorching stare at his back, Draco turned to meet the seething eyes of one Ron Weasley, who appeared to be swimming in jealousy if his bright red face was anything to go by. Draco rolled his eyes and turned away. The Weasel was a fame seeker if he had ever known one. It was no wonder he was conveniently friends with Harry Potter, the most famous young person in the wizarding world. 

As he headed back to the common room, Draco reflected on the day’s events. While the majority of the Durmstrang students had been unremarkable, the gold color of Krum’s voice had certainly been interesting. Based on the way the Bulgarian seeker had interacted with him, the blonde Malfoy assumed he would be seeing more of the Durmstrang leader. He was satisfied with this, and looked forward to investigating Krum’s personality and the reason for his unique voice color. 

Hopefully, he would also get a chance to talk to the students from Beauxbatons, who had been seated on the far end of the Slytherin table and thus were too far away for conversation. He had been focused on Krum too much to do any scouting for other interesting voice hues. 

Also, each Task would bring a variety of experts from different fields in. If Draco could somehow find a way to approach these myriad professionals, that would be even more valuable. Other than the Pureblood functions he had attended while at home (which were few in number) and the occasional Death Eater visit, he rarely had the opportunity to spend an extended amount of time around adults, which limited his understanding of Voices and Flashes. 

And as always, despite how farfetched it seemed, he was always hoping to encounter someone who had considerable knowledge of Seers and could actually help him. But he knew better than to factor such a longshot into his plans. 

Perhaps his Father would be of use in this matter…Draco resolved to write him after classes tomorrow, after Arcanus had returned. Slipping into the common room, he returned to his bedroom and decided to quickly finish off the first day’s homework: reading for History of Magic and a two foot Potions essay. 

All in all, it had been an interesting day.  
_______

Sputtering and swearing impressively, Draco bolted upright in bed, sweat dripping from his brow. What the hell was **that?** He wouldn’t call it a nightmare, because he had felt no terror...but what a bizarre dream! 

His mind worked frantically in an attempt to decipher what he had just seen as he slept. He glanced down at his forearm and found it to be covered in blistering burns, just like what had taken place in the dream. 

Is this part of my gift? If so, what I saw was real. It could be happening now or it could be the future. But why was I burned? Draco stood, pushing aside the bedcovers and stepping onto the cold floor, heading to his trunk. 

At his mother’s insistence, after the first “prophecy” (for lack of a better term) he had begun to keep a dream journal. While his mother was not a Seer, it was a gift that manifested frequently in the Black bloodline, and there had been Malfoy Seers generations ago as well. 

He quickly began to scribble down his dream. As he tried to recall the details, he realized with certainty that whoever he had been dreaming about, whoever he had been in the dream, was not Draco Malfoy. The hands were too large, the body belonged to someone older and bulkier. There had also been a myriad of small scars along the forearms he had seen in his dream. 

What was unusual about the dream was the events that had taken place. He had never seen a real dragon in person, so it was strange that he would dream of one, let alone dream of being a Dragon Tamer. He had, in the dream, attempted to calm the dragon and mostly succeeded, although he received the burn on his forearm for his trouble. 

Even more, and frighteningly, when he awoke he was burned. What if he dreamed of someone’s death? Would he die, too? 

The night air was cool on Draco’s skin, and he shivered…not just from the cold. His gifts frightened him, and he couldn’t even imagine what would happen if his secret were ever to be leaked. He was an anomaly, and his strange powers would cause hatred and fear…as if he didn’t already face enough prejudice on account of simply his name. 

This was rapidly growing out of control. He had to find some way to regulate this, or his life could be in danger. However, he hadn’t been able to gain any semblance of control on his own. That had already been proven. Additionally, there was no one he could trust with his life that would be of assistance. His mother couldn’t help; she had done all she could. His Father would only use him in service of the Dark Lord, and Dumbledore against the Dark Lord. He didn’t know if Severus was under his Father’s thumb or not. His schoolmates were out of the question; their loyalties were to their families first and he couldn’t blame them. He had once been the same. Everyone in the damn school was under the Dark Lord or Dumbledore’s sphere of influence. 

Draco laughed bitterly. This was ridiculous. Would this really be how he went down? His own magic was killing him. Okay, maybe he was a little hysterical. It was only a burn. But it could have been worse. He had no control! 

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he was tempted to burst out in crazed laughter. What was wrong with him? He was acting like some emotional Hufflepuff! Shooting abruptly to his feet, Draco returned the journal to his trunk, grabbed some a quill and some parchment, and recast all his warding and locking spells. In a den of snakes, you could never be too careful. He grabbed his wand and exited, letting the dormitory door shut behind him with a soft click. Casting a Tempus charm, he checked the time. Nearly 4:30 A.M. Well, I won’t be getting any more sleep tonight. 

With a sigh, Draco decided to write a letter to his Father as he had intended this morning. There was nothing else he could do concerning the dream for the time being. Taking a seat by the embers of the common room fireplace, he began to write.

_Father,_

__

__

I believe it is time for me to develop my network of contacts to aid me in the future, as we have discussed before. It occurs to me that the Triwizard Tournament would be a most excellent time for me to accomplish this objective. I respectfully request your assistance in the matter of gaining access to the right people during the Tournament. 

_I will represent the House of Malfoy well.  
D.L.M. _

Hopefully, something would come of meeting the people involved in running the Tournament smoothly. Otherwise, he was out of options. Draco was reluctant to go wandering the corridors at this time of night...or, morning, to send off the letter. Not only was it suspicious, but it was dangerous as well should he be caught by a roaming ghost or a professor. Therefore, he was forced to wait an hour or so until it would be more normal for a student to be out and about. 

So, he did what any Slytherin would do. He practiced curses and charms on the fire that was rapidly burning out. 

____

_*Draco Malfoy’s eagle owl is not given a name in canon, so I took liberties here. Arcanus is Latin for something concealed, secret, or mysterious._


	2. Glimpses of the Soul

Several hours later, Draco returned to the Owlery to send his Father the letter he had drafted early that morning. It was a little before six A.M. now, still around an hour before most students would stir from their beds. The early hour gave Draco confidence in coming here alone. Most of the time he would make sure to have another Slytherin with him. In this instance, though, he doubted a person would sacrifice precious sleep just to hex him. 

He encountered no trouble, so after sending off Arcanus he headed to the Great Hall to grab some breakfast. Slathering a piece of toast with jam, he greeted the few Slytherins who were awake at this time before considering again how twisted his situation was. 

Really, it made no sense whatsoever. Two things in particular screamed wrongness at him: first, the burn on his arm. Speaking of the burn, he had best visit Pomfrey in the hospital wing and get the wound taken care of. Of course he was worried about the burn because he hadn’t been able to control it, but it was also very strange. How could a dream affect the physical world, let alone injure him? He had never heard of something like this happening before, and it was extremely dangerous. If he dreamed about an earthquake, would an earthquake take place? It was not rational, but yet he had been burned. How far would the physical damage go? He had not been the person in the dream, so why were that person’s wounds transferred to him? 

The questions revolved in his head with no answers. Viciously biting into the toast, Draco tapped his fingers against the thick table impatiently. Another thing that bothered him, when he thought more deeply about his situation, was the lack of an authority figure being neutral in this war. There was the Dark Lord, and there was Dumbledore. All other people who had any sway were aligned firmly on either side. Had no one been intelligent enough to suggest a compromise between the two sides? 

Draco had considered the points of each side before and come to the conclusion that neither side was wrong nor was either side was right. Assuredly, the Dark Lord was incorrect in his methods. Terrorizing people was bound to get you nowhere, and only increased the hate on both sides. By this point Voldemort was basically an insane madman anyways, the blonde Malfoy supposed, but still a very powerful insane madman. Despite the faults of the Dark Lord, many of the Purebloods and other wizards who aligned themselves with Voldemort had pure intentions. It was only fear of the Dark Lord that lead most to be as vicious as Voldemort himself. Then again, there were a handful of other insane Death Eaters, such as Draco’s own aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. 

Those aligned with the Dark Lord wanted wizarding customs to remain alive, and continue to be a prominent part of society. They wanted heritage and traditions to be important and respectable to all wizards, but the muggleborn Wizards were not respecting the centuries of magical heritage, a real and tangible issue. 

These wishes were not wrong. Neither were the wishes of muggleborns to join wizarding society and freely learn about the gifts they had inherited, without fear of persecution. Despite the propaganda floating around, muggleborns were in no way lesser wizards. Hermione Granger was enough proof of that, being the brightest witch in their year. 

If Draco, in his young age, could see these things, then why was their no neutral peacemaker? It was as if the participants in the war were squabbling children instead of rational adults. 

Draco did not personally oppose the Dark Lord’s death, but he knew that the Dark Lord could useful in certain ways, such as reminding many about the importance of tradition. It seemed, however, that these methods were not working. Harry Potter was a half-blood, yet he knew nothing of wizarding tradition, nor had anyone attempted to educate him in these matters. That alone was evidence that Dumbledore wasn’t taking the issue seriously either. Taking into consideration all the courses Dumbledore had removed from the Hogwarts curriculum, such as Rituals, Blood Magic, or Wizarding Laws, the problem was further amplified. Yes, these courses could be used for Dark purposes or to exploit others. 

Couldn’t pretty much every other class be used for the same purposes? Magic was a tool, and avoiding education in these matters would only leave students ignorant and more dangerous. Without knowing about the consequences of these spells, they were more likely to do something incredibly stupid. It was a school’s purpose to educate the students, not decide what they were to do with that education. That’s what the law was for. 

Draco was all for being cautious with dangerous magic and not encouraging students to break the law. When all was said and done, though, people would make their own choices and they could pay the consequences for their own actions. If they made the wrong choices, they would suffer for it. That was not the responsibility of anyone except themselves. But no, it seemed Dumbledore was determined to coddle every student and treat them like children, controlling their choices and knowledge of situations. For their own good, of course. 

While Draco would never agree with the Dark Lord’s insane methods, he couldn’t agree with Dumbledore’s manipulations either. The fact that no one else seemed to feel the same way was very concerning to Draco. Could it be that such a neutral party was so dangerous to either side that anyone who showed hints of neutrality was eliminated? That was a frightening thought. 

Mind whirling, Draco reached for a pastry and shoved it into his mouth. Any explanation he could think of was not a comforting one. One way or another, it was a sure thing that anyone who could have been neutral was eliminated. Why this happened, Draco couldn’t be so sure. It was imperative that he figured out why it was happening, if he were to ever have a choice about his future. 

He would prefer not to receive the Dark Mark and become a Death Eater like his father, but if Dumbledore was his only other option, it would be the same as having no choice in the matter. He didn’t trust Dumbledore to act for his good. All he had to do was look at Harry Potter to see that rightness of his decision. The boy was the most powerful wizard the world has seen in generations, and he is wasting his talent away because no one is bothering to teach him correctly. No, Draco did not want to become a tool of Dumbledore. If he could not figure out the mystery behind having no neutral party, than he would have an extremely difficult choice in front of him: become a murderer or become a pawn, possibly sending himself to his death. Neither was desirable. 

As he thought deeply, the Great Hall was slowly filling up with more students. Pansy and Blaise had both joined him, but noticed his pensive mood and chatted among themselves instead of bothering him like usual. Draco sighed and resisted the urge to drop his face into his hands. His gifts were sometimes an unbearable burden, and often he wished that he could fade into the normalcy that his peers were so fortunate to possess. For now he had the willpower and motivation to withstand the stress, but he feared one day he might lose those preventative measures and be unable to bear the pressure. This was even more of a worry if the type of dream he had experienced last night began to take place more frequently. 

The serious thoughts had robbed him of his appetite, but the Malfoy heir continued to eat mechanically in order to keep himself healthy. Checking the time, he discovered that he had about one hour before his class began. Before he forgot, it was time to visit Madame Pomfrey. His mind worked quickly as he walked to the hospital wing in order to make up a plausible excuse for the burn. There really was not a satisfying explanation. He would just insist it happened in Potions and hope she didn’t question him too much, or think something was odd. 

He was greeted brusquely when he entered the room, perhaps because Madame Pomfrey remembered his gross exaggeration regarding the Hippogriff last year and didn’t care enough to look past that.   
Cutting to the chase, Draco rolled up his sleeve, baring the burn to the light. Pomfrey tutted her tongue and fetched a burn-healing paste. “And how did this happen, young man?” Her eyes sternly bore into Draco’s own, not quite accusing but almost there. 

He sighed inwardly. He was used to that look, the look that clearly said you have been doing some Dark Magic, no doubt. “I’m afraid I burned myself brewing a potion.” He offered no further explanation and she did not ask, though her faced showed her disbelief. 

Pomfrey opened a small jar of burn paste, smoothed the thick orange paste gently onto the burn, and bandaged the injured forearm. She handed Draco a fresh, unopened jar of paste and a roll of bandages. “This should help. Apply the paste every morning and every evening and try to wear loose clothing. I would only wear the bandages today and tomorrow, and then when you sleep the next few days. If you have any other issues or it gets infected somehow, please come back to the hospital wing and I will take care of it. It should heal in about three days, and remain a scab for a week or so.” 

Draco pulled his sleeves back down over the bandages, pocketed the healing supplies, and thanked the nurse dispassionately before exiting the wing. He didn’t notice the other student, who looked very surprised to see him, heading to the hospital wing in his preoccupation. The student frowned and decided to ask Pomfrey what that had been all about. 

Draco returned to his rooms and tucked the supplies safely into his trunk, recasting the warding and locking spells. Some of the Slytherins were just beginning to stir and, realizing that they barely had enough time before class to wake up and grab some breakfast, scrambled around hastily. Draco calmly gathered his Charms and Ancient Runes materials and sank back to sit on his bed, waiting patiently until it was time to head to class. 

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Charms and Ancient Runes passed by uneventfully. Even if Draco had not been allowed to do magic, technically, before he arrived at Hogwarts, the Malfoys were never one for following the law strictly. Draco hadn’t learned a lot of complicated Charms and wand work before attending Hogwarts, but he definitely knew most of the theory behind all his subjects until about halfway through sixth year. This familiarity allowed him to grasp concepts quickly, spend less time on homework, and more time studying concepts outside of the Hogwarts curriculum. 

One of the topics he was currently engrossed in was mind healing. It was a unique field that his Seer gifts would be extremely complimentary to. Regretfully, Draco doubted that he could pursue it simply because of the Malfoy name. His father was beginning to turn the once proud and noble name into a curse. Draco was skeptical that many people would trust a Malfoy with their minds…although they were unknowingly doing that every day because of his gifts anyways. No matter, what they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. As for now, he would pursue it as a topic of interest alone, despite his reluctance to let such a fascinating field be denied to him. 

Draco headed to the Great Hall for the announcements concerning the Triwizard Tournament, happy to see and chat with Viktor and the other visiting foreign students. Theodore Nott and a younger third year student accompanied him. When he entered the Hall, he glanced around to make sure Viktor wasn’t waiting somewhere before he sat near the Beauxbatons students, greeting them cordially. As they returned the greetings, he carefully observed the colour of their Voices. None were of interest…but, oh, there was an interesting one. A gorgeous blonde who introduced herself as Fleur had a deep purple voice, almost burgundy. Red was an extremely rare colour in Voices, so to see a blend of purple and red was surprising. Not once had he happened upon a person with a pure red Voice. He imagined red would be connected in some way to passion. 

In a way, searching for a red voice was something akin to a treasure hunt for Draco. He knew person a red Voice would be so different from his own dreaded white Voice, almost complete opposites. 

Purple implied a similarity to Pansy, but the red he could only speculate about. Likely it also implied a vibrant spirit and charisma. Perhaps a blend of all three. 

Draco glanced up as Viktor joined the table, settling across from him. “Viktor, nice to see you again.” The blonde Malfoy inclined his head regally. 

Viktor smiled in return. “Likewise.” He started to say more, but it was lost in the fanfare as the announcement of the Champions began. 

Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric Diggory…very interesting. The first two he would have guessed by their uniquely coloured Voices, but Cedric’s was a normal pale green shade with hints of yellow.   
As the Champions began to exit the Hall, something shocking happened…the Goblet of Fire released another name.

Harry Potter.

Draco was not shocked by who it was, but rather by what it implied: someone was trying to kill Harry Potter. Glancing at the Gryffindor table, Draco sneered. Clearly Potter’s precious friends, especially Weasley, did not believe Potter’s protests. However, Draco had observed Harry frequently, and he knew that there was no way in hell that Potter would willingly participate in such a Tournament.   
Which left one possibility: sabotage. Someone wanted Potter dead, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who. The increased meetings over the summer in the Manor were a blaring clue for Draco, considering that the majority of the guests had been former Death Eaters. 

What was truly surprising was that the precautions Dumbledore had undertaken had been insufficient. Although, perhaps that shouldn’t surprise Draco. Nevertheless, even with the miniscule amount of faith Draco had in the Headmaster, he had expected more from the old coot. 

Fleur and Diggory looked shocked at Harry’s announcement, but Viktor’s expression was unreadable. Draco doubted Krum was directly involved, but he suspected the Bulgarian seeker was at least aware of the happenings. Durmstrang did have a reputation as a Dark Arts school, so Draco assumed they had a hand in this somehow. 

As the four Champions left the room, Draco sent Fleur and Viktor a smile of congratulations and mouthed, “good luck.” They both returned the smile, seeming pleased with their own choosing but perhaps ruffled by the selection of Potter as well. Viktor discreetly waved his wand and a little note flew to Draco’s hand, unnoticed. Draco smirked and nodded at Viktor in acknowledgement. 

He was interrupted from his friendly posturing by Theodore Nott jostling into his side accidentally, resulting in a myriad of Flashes for Draco. The blonde Malfoy scowled at Theo, who apologized profusely. All of Draco’s year-mates knew about his aversion to touch, but sometimes they forgot or bumped him accidentally, as in Theo’s case. Either way, they received a death glare from the Slytherin Ice Prince. 

Returning his attention to the small piece of paper his hands were hiding, Draco carefully avoided the note away from prying eyes. In eight minutes, please stop by. I have some important matters to discuss. 

The Malfoy heir burned the note in his fist and returned to his dinner, counting the minutes in his head. Blaise and Pansy engaged him in conversation about Potter’s unexpected Champion status, but Draco remained tight-lipped and didn’t offer any additional information.

After the appropriate time had passed, Draco stood and excused himself from the table. He passed a fuming Ron Weasley and made sure to accidentally elbow him in the back, resulting in an eruption of cursing which earned chastisement from the professors at the staff table. Draco escaped in the chaos. 

He quickly moved to where the muffled sounds of argument originated from. A quick glance told him that this was the room where the Headmasters and other involved professors were arguing about Potter’s situation. The other three Champions were conspicuously absent. Draco checked three rooms nearby before finding them. 

Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor all glanced up as he entered. Viktor gestured Draco over to the side, muffling their voices to prevent Fleur and Cedric from eavesdropping. 

As he moved to the side, Viktor began to speak. “I have been asking students about you. I was trying to figure out if you supported the Dark Lord, but the evidence was inconclusive. Before I tell you why I want to know, I need to know your allegiance.” Draco was about to protest, but to his shock Krum abruptly swore upon his magic not to reveal Draco’s answer to anyone else and not to use the information to hurt Draco in any way.

Taken aback, Draco hesitated to speak. “I consider myself neutral.” He met Viktor’s eyes solemnly, trying to convince the Seeker of his sincerity. Apparently it worked, because Krum kept going. “I do not approve of what has happened here tonight. I am unsure whether my Headmaster initiated this or not, but I do not wish to be forced into something because of my loyalty to him. I need your help, Draco.”   
Unknowingly, Viktor casually touched Draco’s shoulder. The blonde boy flinched away, but not before something completely distressing happened. Draco expected strong Flashes, as was apt to happen when he touched a person for the first time. However, what happened was completely different from anything Draco was prepared for. 

It was as if he was no longer in control of his own body. Suddenly, he started to shake and his eyes glowed silver. Viktor shouted in alarm, and even the muffling spell was not enough to disguise the volume of the noise. Fleur and Cedric turned toward the sound, noticed something was wrong, and hurried over to Viktor’s side. The young Malfoy slumped in Viktor’s arms. 

“What happened? What is wrong with him?” Cedric’s voice was panicked and he stared at Draco in morbid fascination, taking in the unhealthy pallor of his skin. 

Fleur’s eyes were wide with shock and she quickly helped Viktor to lower the prone Malfoy gently to the floor. “It seems he is in some kind of trance. Is Draco ill, or gifted in Divination in some way? Diggory?” 

Cedric blinked. “I..I don’t know. Not that I’ve heard of? But he’s a Slytherin, they like to keep their secrets.”

Viktor spoke up. “I have never seen a Divination trance, but it seems like a good explanation. Will he be okay?” 

Unbeknownst to the three Champions, Draco heard them all in a disconnected sort of way. He was simultaneously there in Hogwarts and at a place he guessed was the end of the Triwizard Tournament. He watched as Cedric and Harry reached together for the Triwizard Cup…which was a Portkey. The battle played before his eyes, resulting in Cedric Diggory’s death. The vision cut off abruptly after that and switched to a new scene. 

This time it seemed to be many years in the future. Draco spotted his older self alongside…was that a Weasley? He drew in a shocked breath before confirming it definitely wasn’t a Weasley he had met before. However, the distinctive family traits were unmistakable. Vision-Draco and the unknown Weasley had their wands drawn, blasting off hexes and curses rapidly. Draco was unable to see their opponents, but he could tell by the movements that the two were very skilled duelists. They were also familiar with each other, to the point of taking hits for one another and watching each other’s backs.   
Once more, the scene changed. This time he was unable to see whose eyes he was seeing from, only that the person had delicate, feminine hands. The scene in front of this person was horrifying: a damp, dirty dungeon filled with what seemed to be hostages of some sort. Draco’s only hint regarding the location was a strange symbol etched into the walls, resembling a hexagon with a star inside. The feminine hands picked up a bloodstained scalpel and fumbled it, accidentally nicking the left pointer finger. 

Draco came back to himself abruptly and sat up from his position on the floor. Three worried sets of eyes tracked his movement. Only then did Draco remember the conversation between the three and begin to panic: they suspected he had a vision. 

“Draco.” Viktor voiced tentatively. “Are you well?” 

Draco’s face nearly crumbled, but he held it together. He didn’t know what to do. A terrible headache pounded in the back of his skull and his eyes felt gritty and tired, as if he hadn’t slept in two days. “Hopefully.” 

It was then that Fleur noticed his bleeding hand. “Did you cut your hand on something, Draco? I didn’t notice this before.” She reached for his hand to inspect it, only to have him pull it back adamantly. 

“Please don’t touch me.” Draco requested politely. 

Cedric Diggory spoke to Draco for the first time. “Malfoy, what is going on here? I think you owe us an explanation.” 

It was the Ice Prince of Slytherin who replied, not Draco Malfoy. “I don’t owe you anything, Diggory.” He hissed, eyes narrowing and shooting Cedric a very impressive glare. His eyes were the colour of steel. 

Fleur immediately intervened. “Whatever just happened, Draco, you’re bleeding. You look exhausted, and you went into a trance of some sort. I know you’re afraid, but we are too. Please tell us what happened, maybe we can help.” 

Draco’s narrowed eyes darted between the three Champions. He let out a deep sigh. “If I tell you, you have to swear on your magic not to tell another soul. I’ll not be stupid enough to die just because you three blabbed.” His acidic tone and cold glare caused Cedric to wince. Draco’s white skin greyed further as he began to process what he had just said and seen. 

To Draco’s surprise, the Champions did as he asked and swore upon their magic to keep Draco’s words secret. Relieved, Draco confirmed that he’d just had a vision. “My abilities have always been unusual, and a lot of it is triggered by touch.” He glanced apologetically at Fleur. Deciding to keep things as vague as possible, Draco kept the rest to himself and stood. “Now you know. Viktor, you were saying?” 

Cedric tried to protest, clearly wanting more information, but Draco ignored him. He was unwilling to look into the face of someone he had just seen dying before his eyes. Fleur gently tugged on Diggory’s arm, leading him away from the other two. 

Viktor recast _Muffliato_ , and Draco spoke first. “I am willing to help you. It makes things easier that you know about my visions now, as much as I would have preferred for that not to happen. Now is not the time to discuss our plans, though. They will reach a consensus regarding Potter soon. Find me tomorrow when you can, and we can talk more.” With a wave of farewell to the three, Draco hurriedly left the room. 

He was reeling by the time he made it to the Slytherin common room, and extremely lightheaded. Mumbling the password to the portrait and leaning against the wall for support, he sidled into the shared space of the Common Room. Draco barely made it to the couch before collapsing in a heap. The combination of the vision, one like he’d never experienced before, and having someone discover his part of his secret for the first time was too much. 

Mentally congratulating himself for not fainting, Draco allowed himself to slip into unconscious sleep. He would deal with what he had just seen later. As of now, he lacked the mental capacity. 

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When he awoke, the queasy feeling had not disappeared. Pansy hovered over him suddenly, nearly causing Draco to jolt off the couch. “Everything okay, Drake?” She questioned, smiling at his jumpiness.   
Draco sat up and smiled back. He could always count on Pansy to keep the other Slytherins away: that it served her own interests was enough motivation. “I think I ate something bad at dinner. And don’t call me that.” 

Pansy chuckled. Uncharacteristically, she glanced around before leaning in close. “Draco, refusing to speak about Potter’s situation has left me confused. Are you a part of this mess or not? Because you’ve been acting strangely as of late.” 

Draco stiffened. “I have nothing to do with this, I assure you. Even if I was inclined to, I wouldn’t go about it in such a public way.” He didn’t answer her implied question directly, but he knew she would understand how his answer revealed his allegiance in its own way. 

Pansy let out a breath of relief. “Oh. Good then, because I was expecting the worst. My parents have not declared their allegiances yet, but…I would hate to be on opposite sides. Now it seems we won’t be, at least yet.”

Draco rubbed his temples tiredly. So the Parkinsons intended to be neutral or to side with Dumbledore. Likely the latter, as being neutral really meant being against both sides. He was not in the mood to deal with Slytherin politics at the moment. “Good to know. However, there are some things that I need to take care of now. Thanks for watching my back.” He stood and walked to his dormitory, dropping into the bed after fetching his dream journal from the trunk. 

Draco scribbled down the snippets of each vision. He was especially concerned about the final scene in the twisted dungeon. The equipment there had almost seemed like a laboratory. After he finished describing the scenes, he dropped the journal and leaned back against the headboard, swallowing hard. 

Oh, where even to begin? Draco pushed the third vision aside for now. Best not to dwell on what could potentially kill him until he figured out a way to prevent injury during a vision, a bigger threat. Viktor and Fleur seemed sincere in offering potential friendship but with Diggory, he was unsure of how much to trust. Cedric seemed firmly under Dumbledore’s thumb, and likely his rigid morality and potentially judgmental attitude would only get in Draco’s way. Perhaps with the right persuasion he could be swayed. Difficult to guess, so Draco would just have to observe for now. It did seem that his first vision revolved around the Triwizard Tournament, so he expected the next vision to show him a way to prevent Diggory’s death. Draco really hoped it wouldn’t involve personal intervention, but he would do what he could. 

Fleur, he was beginning to trust. She had a sensible head on her shoulders and was too kind to betray him without extreme circumstances. He wondered briefly how she would do in the Tournament. As the only woman competing, it must be daunting for her. Witches typically had overall less magical power, but more precise control over the power they did possess.

Also, Viktor’s plea for helped sounded suspiciously like an alliance offer. Tomorrow, Draco would bring up his thoughts about the lack of a strong, unified neutral voice. Perhaps the Bulgarian seeker would have some thoughts about the mystery. If his offer of an alliance was genuine, Draco could imagine a lot of benefits. The Krum family did not wield influence comparable to the Malfoys, but they were an old line nonetheless. Viktor was also a famous figure because of his Quidditch skills, which brought a considerable amount of clout. More than anything else, though, he was a strong wizard with a lot of experience in dueling and the Dark Arts. There was a lot Draco could learn from the older boy. 

He was unsure whether it would be wise to alert Viktor to the nature of his visions, though. It was probably a good idea to conceal the details, especially Cedric’s possible death. Pureblood alliances were serious things, so Draco knew that accepting the offer would guarantee Viktor’s loyalty. Even Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy wouldn’t be able to feud with or go against the Krums, and vice versa. It was a binding agreement, so he would have to lay out the details meticulously. However, Viktor’s use of magically binding oaths signaled his seriousness and commitment. 

Draco also contemplated whether to inform his mother of the recent developments but decided against it. No need to worry her unless things became more serious, as there was nothing she could do to assist him. 

Returning his journal to the trunk and locking it up underneath wards, Draco changed into clothes more appropriate for sleeping and checked the time. 2 AM, no wonder only Pansy had been awake. He definitely owed her one for checking up on him. Perhaps he could arrange her a date with Viktor Krum…

Smiling to himself, Draco climbed into bed, hoping that his dreams would either shed some light on the path ahead of him or stay away. When sleep finally came, it was not peaceful as he had hoped, but filled once again with visions. First, Draco saw himself telling Dumbledore about his vision. That played out with a similar result to his first vision: Cedric Diggory, dead. While Draco didn’t honestly care overmuch about what happened to Diggory, if he was receiving warnings as a Seer, it was best to heed them rather than risk disaster. Therefore, telling Dumbledore was not going to be helpful (although Draco never truly would have considered telling the Headmaster anyways). 

Similar dreams continued along the same vein: sharing his secret with Harry Potter, Severus Snape, and Cedric himself. Though the cause of death and details varied, the end result was ultimately and always the same. His conclusions were correct then. No one he told would be able to effectively help or change anything. 

Or so he thought. One glimpse of the future was different, however. Draco saw himself speaking to the unknown Weasley from his previous second vision, the one with longer hair and a muscled torso. Vision-Draco’s face was frustrated as he spoke. The Weasley was listening closely and seemed to be intrigued, nodding his head every so often and looking thoughtful. They appeared to be speaking on Hogwarts grounds. To Draco’s befuddlement, this time the Tournament did not end with Diggory’s death. 

Then there was the old vision again. Vision-Draco and the Weasley fighting skillfully together, throwing magic around like seasoned Aurors. This time, though, when the fight was over the Weasley pulled Draco into his arms and gave him a giant bear hug. Muscle-Weasley murmured something about being so worried and how much of an idiot the blonde Slytherin was. Rather like his mother, this Weasley was. 

So, Draco surmised he was supposed to befriend this Weasley character. That was the only way to prevent Diggory’s death and satisfy his obligation to “fix” the future. It would have to be done discreetly, or Lucius Malfoy may have something to punish his son for again. It would be too dangerous to go directly against his father. 

Again, Draco stood and recorded his dreams into the journal. As for the older Weasley, perhaps with a few taunts Ronald would reveal more about his brothers that could be of use to Draco. 

The flurry of visions had once again taken its toll on Draco. His whole body felt heavy and stiff, and he expected that his morning appearance would quite resemble a zombie. Rolling over, Draco let himself drift into sleep for the third time that night.

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As expected, Draco looked absolutely dreadful in the morning and his mirror told him so with a gasp of horror. After a quick shower, the Malfoy heir pulled on his school clothes and put his hair in order. He could do nothing about the dark circles under his eyes or the pallor of his skin. His appearance was impeccable, as always, but his face looked ill.   
When questioned about his health, Draco simply shrugged and told them he was tired and would see Pomfrey after classes. A lie, as he knew she would be unable to help him, but that was none of anyone else’s business. 

Pansy and Blaise accompanied him to breakfast, but on the way he was surprisingly pulled aside by Potter, without his sidekicks. Draco pursed his lips and gestured for his friends to go ahead, which seemed to relieve Harry. “What is it, Potter? My time is valuable, you know.” He scowled at the messy-haired Gryffindor. 

Potter seemed unusually nervous. “I saw…that is, yesterday, you were leaving the infirmary. Why? You are involved with whatever is happening, I’m sure of it. That’s why you were injured, and why you didn’t look surprised when my name came out of the Goblet.” 

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me or telling me? That sounded like an accusation with no proof to me. What they say about Gryffindors must be true: you are foolishly reckless. Otherwise, why would you confront a potential Death Eater on your own?” Draco tapped his wand against his thigh tauntingly. “You never know what might befall you.”   
Potter’s hackles rose, and he stepped backward, snapping, “I don’t need proof to know that you’re a slimy git! This is just the kind of thing you would do: cowardly and sneaky. I won’t let you get away with this. You’ve always hated me!” 

Draco’s fury rose, but he contained it in ice. Despite his control, he was sure that the anger crossed his face for a few seconds. “My, Potter, I didn’t know you were so confident in my abilities to out-think Dumbledore. If I wanted you dead, Potter, you would be already. I have no interest in you, however. Once, we could have been friends, but you were too stupid to understand what I was offering. Now that you see what kind of friend Ronald Weasley is, I hope you regret it. Focus on the Tournament, Potter, and leave me alone. You might not survive otherwise. You may be the Boy-Who-Lived, but the other Champions outclass you entirely.” He left in a flurry of robes, regretting being civil and wishing he had just hexed the boy on sight like he usually did. 

When Draco entered the Great Hall, he walked immediately to the Slytherin table. Pansy and Blaise seemed to sense his worsened mood and didn’t ask questions about his conversation with Potter. The owls began to fly in, delivering mail and small packages from the Hogwarts students’ families. Arcanus flew in with a letter for Draco. Catching hold of the letter, Draco decided to open it later, in private. He rewarded the owl with a small bite of food before the eagle owl returned to the Owlery. 

Quickly finishing his breakfast, Draco couldn’t help but wonder why his Sight was changing so rapidly and drastically. Logically, he understood that magic was all about balance. Therefore, his abilities must be triggering in response to some external threat, something Harry Potter couldn’t defeat alone. Yet, why him of all people? Surely it would have been better for the Seer to have been someone close to Potter, in order to steer him out of Dumbledore’s manipulations and onto a more informed path. Draco, however, only had influence in Pureblood circles, most of whom would stand against Harry Potter. Did the balance the magic was seeking not exist? Were both sides too unstable, and that was why the magic came to Draco? The possibility made more sense than anything else Draco could imagine. It was also a huge burden if it was true. 

Glancing around and determining that he was alone, Draco unfolded the perfectly scripted note from his father. It read simply: 

_It seems you at last deem my advice worthy of consideration. Because of your foresight, I have taken the liberty to acquire this pass. You will be able to wander freely, but it would serve you well to be discreet. Do not bring shame upon the Malfoy name, for I will not extend such favors twice. LM_

Draco smiled contentedly and tucked both the note and the pass deep into his robe pockets. With a pang, he wondered if it had been a mistake to keep his father unaware of the Seer abilities Draco possessed. There were times he caught glimpses of a good man, a good father…someone he could be proud of. Despite his rough childhood and the extreme weight of expectations placed upon his shoulders, Draco loved his father. Many people would scoff at the thought of Lucius Malfoy being a good man, but Draco would disagree. Perhaps he was not a good man because of his poor choices following the Dark Lord, but he did make that decision with the intention of preserving his family’s prestigious name. 

It was then that footsteps caught his attention. Draco turned to see Viktor Krum approaching him. The two young men greeted each other warmly. Despite the age differences, both boys had kindled a strong friendship considering the short amount of time they had known each other. 

“I was under the impression that you planned to offer a former Pureblood alliance. Is that assumption correct?” Draco twirled his wand lightly through his fingertips, meeting Viktor’s gaze solidly.   
“You are most perceptive. Yes, that was my intention. It will allow us to trust each other implicitly and will bind our families to the same standard. I do believe it is necessary and that it will benefit the both of us.” The Bulgarian seeker spoke confidently. 

Draco agreed. “I trust that you have prepared the necessary materials and instructions. I know the gist of the ritual, but not each detailed step. May I look over the methodology?” Viktor indicated his agreement, so Draco scanned the text. “It seems straightforward. We should perform it outside the Hogwarts wards, as it requires blood magic. In the early morning, perhaps?” 

Viktor nodded. “That is acceptable. Best to finish it before the First Task begins.” He looked a little apprehensive. “Tonight, preparations for the Tournament will begin. I have heard it involves dragons.”   
The first vision flashed before Draco’s eyes with the mention of dragons. “Yes, I’ve heard that also. For the ritual, please think on what you would like our contract to entail and I will do the same. Please do not hesitate to ask if you need my assistance for anything else.” A wry smile crossed the blonde’s face. “Though your skills surely exceed mine. Thank you for meeting me. Farewell, I will see you in the morning.” Realizing that he was nearly late for class, Draco jogged away composedly. 

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That evening, people began swarming Hogwarts in preparation for the First Task, just as Viktor had told him. Draco decided to wander the grounds, keeping the pass from his father at hand just in case someone were to call him out. However, it seemed everyone was too busy and absorbed in in their own work to take notice of one slight, blonde-haired Malfoy.   
Draco had observed so many people without being noticed that he was startled when someone finally spoke to him. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you a student?” Turning, Draco came face-to-face with the Weasley from his visions.

Draco’s grey eyes widened in his surprise. On second thought, he could also say with certainty that the muscled and scarred torso from his first vision also belonged to this man. Without responding verbally, Draco simply lifted the pass soullessly. 

The Weasley relaxed. “Oh, sorry. I guess I just assumed. What’s your name? Malfoy, right?” As the Weasley spoke, a brilliant red cloud drifted from his lips. _Red. His Voice is red._

Draco abruptly realized he was staring and quickly averted his gaze. “My name is Draco, not Malfoy.” He replied tersely. The red Voice was so completely unexpected and shocking that his brain was working more slowly than usual. 

The Weasley smiled, taking Draco by surprise. “Sorry about that. I’ve heard a bit from Ron, but I know how he tends to exaggerate. I should have guessed the same would be true about you. Anyone named after dragons can’t be all that bad.” He winked at the younger blonde. “I’m Charlie Weasley, it’s nice to meet you, Draco. What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking? It seems a strange place for a student to be wandering about.” Charlie knew that his family was not on good terms with the Malfoys, especially after what had happened to Ginny in the Chamber of Secrets and Lucius’s involvement in her peril. What he was sensing from Draco, though, was completely different than his father. Not to mention, his response to being called by his family name had been negative. Charlie was a curious person by nature, and Draco’s surly, withdrawn temperament reminded Charlie of the boy’s namesake: dragons. 

Draco frowned. He knew from his visions that the future depended on him befriending and trusting this person, but the Weasley’s unflappable cheerfulness was off-putting to him. “I don’t quite see how that is any of your business. Goodbye, Weasley.” He turned to leave, unable to face that shockingly red Voice any longer. 

To his annoyance, he was prevented from escaping by a large, calloused hand closing around his wrists. “Call me Charlie, please. It is my name. Are you okay? You look a little gray.” As he spoke, Flashes assaulted Draco’s vision with an intensity he was unprepared for. The Weasley family at Christmas, merry and warm and full of laugher and light. Charlie’s intense joy and passion for working with dragon. Catching the snitch to win the game amidst roars of approval. A wrenching sadness as the first dragon died in his care…Draco snatched his hand back with a growl. “Please don’t touch me.” He was trying to be civil, truly, but this man was testing his patience with the frightening openness and casual nature he displayed. “I am fine, thank you for your concern.” Draco turned to leave again, but he caught a glimpse of Severus prowling the grounds and ducked back behind Charlie. 

Following his gaze, the older Weasley chuckled. “Hiding from Professor Snape? I don’t blame you. I need to get back to work, Draco, but feel free to tag along. I wouldn’t mind the company.” Charlie pushed his long red hair back from his face, pulled on a thick set of gloves, and began to stride away. 

Seeing little other choice, Draco followed. He wouldn’t be in trouble if Severus noticed him here. He did have a pass, but he would be in deep shit if word got back to his father that he’d been chatting with a Weasley instead of dazzling some Pureblood scholar. It was a risk he was unwilling to take. 

Charlie continued chattering, despite Draco’s obvious reluctance to be in his company. “You’re in your fourth year, just like Ron. Not a terribly exciting year, so you are very lucky to have the Tournament taking place now. Which Champion do you think will win?” 

Draco’s mind raced. Well, that was an easy opening he couldn’t really pass up. Might as well get it over with. “None of them. There will be no winner.” He said with complete certainty. Draco’s heart was pounding, and he wandered if he was truly doing the right thing. 

Charlie blinked in confusion. Honestly he hadn’t expected a response. What a strange kid, but he could swear Draco wasn’t lying. “You sound so sure of that. Why do you think no one will win?” 

Draco turned to face him, eyes piercing and almost seeming to glow silver. There, in that moment, he didn’t look like a young Hogwarts student. “Because I am a Seer.” He admitted softly, voice deep and serious. “And you are the only person who can help me prevent a catastrophe.”


	3. Dangerous Visions

Charlie Weasley was surprised to see Draco Malfoy of all people wondering the busy Hogwarts grounds…busy Hogwarts grounds that were currently restricted for students. When he questioned the kid further, he didn’t find what he expected at all. From Ron’s reports and stories, the young Malfoy was evil personified, and his attitude was cruel and haughty to everyone. While Charlie did encounter a stiff pride and perhaps a bit of a condescending attitude, he had to admit that overall, Draco Malfoy had a strange charisma. Rather than the snobbish brat he expected, the young man had an aura of mystery, and an otherworldly air about him. 

Even stranger, his eyes looked ancient. Iridescent and silver like pools of water that were too deep to see the bottom, the eyes did not belong to someone the same age as his youngest brother. They were too mature…too dark. 

He fully expected the blonde Slytherin to depart from his unsavory company immediately, but instead he was able to chat a little more with the interesting Pureblood heir due to Snape’s prowling. At one point, he was afraid he had scared the boy off. That was when the completely unexpected happened…

_“Because I am a Seer…and you are the only person who can help me prevent a catastrophe.”_

The words fell like stones, heavy and disturbing the quiet. Neither person knew quite what to do or say next.

Draco decided to just keep talking, before he lost his nerve. “When I was young, my mother thought I was crazy at first. I would talk about seeing colors when people spoke. To me, every person’s voice has a unique hue, one that only I can see. A few years after that, my abilities began to expand. I started to have Flashes when others touched me, seeing their happiest and worst moments flash before my eyes. No matter how much I tried to prevent them, the pictures only became stronger. They would disrupt my concentration, making me seem attention deficit or like I was constantly daydreaming. My mother decided it would be best to keep what I could do secret. Until yesterday, no one except my mother ever knew. Before this school year, I had three strange dreams. They were different than anything that had happened to me before. My mother believed them to be pieces of prophecies. I think she was mostly wrong, because a few days ago I began to see the future…and the past. Someone is going to die in the Triwizard Tournament, and I was shown that the only way to prevent that from happening was to ask for your help.” Draco met Charlie’s eyes, hating to say these things but knowing he had no choice. 

Swallowing hard, Draco lifted his sleeve and bandages, allowing Charlie a glimpse of the burn on his forearm…a burn that happened to be identical to the one on Charlie’s forearm. The detail didn’t escape Charlie and the freckled Weasley paled slightly. Draco continued, “My first vision was when you received that burn. When I woke up, I was burned, too.” He let the implications sink in. “I have researched everything to do with Seers that I could get my hands on, and there is no one recorded with abilities like mine. If I do not find a way to control this, my own magic may kill me by experiencing someone’s death in a dream. The only reason I didn’t die seeing the death in the Tournament is that it was from another’s eyes.” Pride shone in Draco’s eyes as he paused for a moment. “If it were my choice, I wouldn’t be telling you this. But I have been shown that this is the only way.” 

Charlie gaped at the younger Malfoy like a fish, unable to form a response. Just like a dragon, Draco had swooped in and done something so completely unexpected that Charlie was unsure how to respond. Slowly, his expression transformed into a grin. He loved the thrill of working with dragons. The danger was intoxicating, and every small victory was a great exhilaration, like that of nothing else. The implied danger, the mystery, and the hint of darkness in Draco’s eyes was exactly the kind of adventures Charlie lived for, intensely similar to Dragon Taming. How could he turn down the change to be a part of something he craved? “Tell me everything, and I will protect you the best I can from dangers.”

Draco’s eyes flashed in mild annoyance and anger. “While your offer remains within the grain of Gryffindor character, I do not want or need your protection.” His voice held a hint of disdain for what he perceived as Charlie’s patronizing response. “I came to you because it was my duty, but you seem to have misinterpreted my intentions.” If he were honest with himself, Draco was honestly startled by the excited gleam in Charlie’s eyes. Of all reactions he expected to provoke, excitement was not one of them. That this had flowed together so seamlessly and effortlessly was more worrying than reassuring to the Slytherin. 

Charlie could tell Draco was trying to put distance between them because he hated asking for help, but he didn’t comment on Draco’s defensive move. “My apologies then. I will keep your abilities secret. At which task in the Tournament must we be cautious?”

Hearing Charlie say we was both relieving and terrifying. Draco dipped his head in gratitude. “The final task is when we must be vigilant. The Death Eaters will make their move against Potter then.”   
Charlie’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of Harry Potter, a furrow of concern marring his brow. “I see…thank you for the information. I will inform Dumbledore and-”

Draco’s hand shout out and captured Charlie’s shirt collar, face twisting into a snarl as he yanked the Weasley down to meet blazing silver eyes. “Don’t you dare! Did you not consider that I would have done that if I thought it would help? If you inform Dumbledore, people will still die, and my life will be in danger. Were you even listening? You will tell no one. Otherwise there is nothing I can do to prevent countless deaths. Do you think this is a game, Weasley?”

Taken aback by Draco’s vehemence, Charlie simply stared into Draco’s furious eyes. He was only trying to determine the truth, but what he saw there surprised him. 

His eyes were strong and held anger, yes, but beneath it all Charlie could sense a strong undercurrent of terror. These were eyes that had glimpsed horrors Charlie could never dream of, aged eyes that knew of suffering and sacrifice. They were not, as many would assume, the eyes of a pampered Pureblood heir. Charlie could not remember ever seeing eyes that appeared more troubled. That alone was proof of the truth in Draco’s words…and of Charlie’s arduous task in protecting the young man. Because, despite the young man’s protests, it was clear to Charlie that Draco required someone he could trust to take care of him. 

The young Seer desperately needed that care…before he killed himself by stress and exhaustion, which were currently leaving their marks upon his face. 

Charlie sighed. “I am sorry Draco. I should have realized. I was listening, and I don’t think this is any sort of game. The fact that it is you telling me this should have clued me in to the magnitude of what I was dealing with. I can tell you for certain…I have no intention of putting your life in danger. Please trust me.” 

Draco saw the moment that Charlie understood the severity of what was happening. He released his grip on the redheaded man. As his anger deserted him, the exhaustion returned and his shoulders sagged. 

Tilting his head back and releasing a long sigh, he turned to go. “I will try. Let’s meet here tomorrow, and I will tell you more about what I have Seen. If you decide that you cannot be of assistance in the meantime, notify me by owl. If I do not hear from you, than I will take that as your consent to aid me.”

Charlie reached to grab his arm before remembering the Flashes and stopping mid-movement. “It will be dangerous for you to sneak out. Let me meet you inside Hogwarts instead. I will just tell Headmaster Dumbledore that I would like to visit my siblings. I was planning to soon, anyways.”

With the stark reminder of just who he was talking to, Draco drew his walls back up around himself and banished all traces of fatigue. “If that is what you prefer. Where and when would you like me to meet you? I need not remind you that absolute discretion is necessary.” 

Charlie sighed at the sudden distance Draco again attempted to place between them. This partnership would clearly require him to prove himself to the Seer in order to work properly. It would be a challenging task, based upon Draco’s prickly attitude. However, Charlie had always appreciated challenges…the more difficult, the more rewarding they ultimately were. He felt drawn to Draco and the cloud of melancholy that hung around the blonde. 

Not to mention that the Slytherin’s current state awakened Charlie’s protective, big brother instinct. “Tomorrow afternoon, after lunch. Meet me in the seventh floor corridor, on the left side.” The Room of Requirement was a perfect place to meet in times like these. “I will not tell a soul of your abilities without your consent, Draco, but I will mention to my brother Bill that I am researching Seers. He is a curse breaker, and may have access to restricted information about Seers. He would have no reason to connect my sudden interest to you, so your secret will be safe. In case that doesn’t turn up anything useful, I will also make inquiries to the Ministry of Magic through my father.” Before Draco could protest, Charlie quickly added, “It is necessary to have control over your gifts if you truly wish to avoid detection. Sooner or later, people will start wondering why you hate being touched, or why you show up with severe injuries. A few years from now, your father may even start asking you to date. Until you gain control, your life will constantly be at risk in your dreams. All of those facts indicate that learning more of your abilities is of the utmost importance.” He laid a compassionate hand on Draco’s shoulder, careful to touch only cloth. 

Draco didn’t turn to face him. “Thank you.” He said simply. “I will see you tomorrow.” He strode away without a backwards glance. Charlie watched him go, a puzzled look on his handsome face. The young Seer’s mask was so strong that the Dragon Tamer was having difficulty discerning Draco’s thoughts. When they met again, he would have to ask Draco directly where his allegiances lie. Clearly, the Malfoy heir was not the devout Pureblood son he pretended to be. Otherwise, he would feel no obligation to oppose the Death Eater’s plans during the tournament to save one person’s life. How far that resolve extended, though, was the true mystery. Charlie wholeheartedly intended to learn much more about Draco Malfoy. The fate of the world now depended on it. 

There was also one little fact that further motivated the elder Weasley…not once during their whole conversation had he seen even a hint of happiness in Draco’s eyes. That alone was enough to merit Charlie’s concern. An unhappy dragon was an unstable one, and anyone could tell you that an unstable dragon could and would cause a lot of damage. Charlie was an expert with dragons, but even for him it was extremely difficult to coax a dragon who didn’t care for itself back into a healthy lifestyle. Draco may not be a dragon, but there were a lot of similarities between his situation and a dragon’s. Charlie had a huge task in front of him…it was time to make a plan of action. 

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Shame coursed through Draco’s veins as he quickly left Charlie Weasley behind. Inwardly, he berated himself for being so pathetic that even a Weasley felt sorry for him. How had things gotten so quickly out of hand? A few days ago his mask was firmly in place and he faced the world confidently, a barrier distancing him from his peers and teachers. Now, that defense was quickly crumbling in the wake of his disturbing dreams. He had to quickly compose himself and reconstruct that wall, or he would be discovered. 

Focusing on his magic, he began to go through the calming exercises he used to expand his Sight. The ritual was familiar, and he felt himself beginning to relax and regain his equilibrium. If there was one thing he hated more than anything else, it was his own vulnerabilities and insecurities being revealed. The Slytherin inside him was screaming that telling Charlie had been incredibly suicidal, but what choice did he have? It was either expose himself or let an innocent boy die. While Draco knew that he was no saint, he didn’t want the blood of others on his hands. Not to mention the ramifications that the Dark Lord increasing his power could have. If Draco ever wanted a choice in his life, he could not become a Death Eater, or allow Voldemort to gain any more power and status. To do so would rob him of his freedom and either result in his death or make him an outcast forever. Neither was acceptable, so he would have to throw away his pride instead. There were worse paths. 

Feeling a little more centered, Draco returned to the dungeons. Tomorrow he would have to return to dazzle Purebloods as his father would expect, but now was not the time. Perhaps after forming the alliance with Viktor, a little more stability would return to his life and he could do whatever was necessary. Now, though, his strength and energy were sapped…all because of that shockingly red Voice.   
Draco was familiar with being alone. He had spent most of his childhood in solitary silence, cared for by house elves. He had always been convinced of his parents love for him, even if his father only loved the perfect Pureblood son that Draco was swiftly becoming less and less similar too. Despite this assurance, his childhood had been a rather lonely one. Because he was raised in such a distant way, it was difficult for him to be open with others. There were several practices he had come to adopt in his life that would most likely be viewed by others as unhealthy. For example, he did not allow himself to become attached to anything, or anyone. To Draco, attachments were only potential weaknesses that could be exploited by those who wished him harm, things that others could take away from him. He had taken many life lessons from the Flashes he had glimpsed throughout the years. If Draco were to list the ways his thoughts were structured, the first building block would be that even your own shadow leaves you when you’re in darkness. 

Another hard-earned lessons concerned emotions. Showing emotion gave your opponent information about how to best destroy you. Draco was not one to ignore his emotions, but he did wield them as a tool and was very careful to keep them under control and hidden from others. Using emotions made a person more believable, and understanding them gave you power. It was this lesson that Draco applied to Harry Potter. When the boy had initially rejected his offer of friendship, he had been hurt. Understanding the source of that injury allowed Draco to strengthen his walls, and it is truly for the best that his relationship with Potter remains antagonistic. After all, Lucius Malfoy would hardly be pleased if his son was on good terms with his Lord’s worst enemy. 

These two traits greatly contributed to Draco’s white Voice, though he did not know it. To protect his secret Draco had denied himself, and hidden his heart away. 

However, things were changing. Soon, Viktor would be someone he could trust unreservedly, and whether Draco liked it or not he was also being forced to open up to Charlie Weasley. What Draco did realize was that his life was changing very quickly, and he hated the loss of control. 

Hearing footsteps, Draco glanced up and made eye contact with Goyle. With a soft smile, Draco gestured him over, reading from his facial expression that his year-mate wished to discuss something.   
Goyle grinned back and plopped on the sofa next to Draco, careful not to touch him. “Hi, Draco. I had a few questions for you.”

Upon closer examination, Draco blinked in surprise. He hadn’t spoken to Goyle in a few days, and he was interested to note that the admittedly chubby boy seemed to be losing weight and gaining a bit of muscle. “Have you been exercising?” he blurted. 

Greg Goyle snickered. “Yes, I suppose you have had your head in the clouds lately. Still, I am surprise you didn’t notice before. Anyways, I meant to discuss something a little more serious.” Glancing around, Greg performed a quick muffling spell in order to obscure their words from unwanted listeners. “I know that we became acquaintances because of out father’s…circumstances. Despite that situation, I want you to know that you have more than earned my loyalty. MY father has recently been instructing me, pushing me toward the path of a Death Eater. I spoke to Pansy about this, and she pushed me toward you, mate.”

Draco worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Well, he had spilled a few times already. He did believe he could trust Goyle. “I am neutral, and I will remain so despite the pressure my father will surely put upon me. It has always been the Malfoy way, and my father has abandoned that caution in his grasp for more prestige. Due to the lack of neutrality, I have begun to gather like-minded individuals to my side. I would be pleased to have you join us, were you interested.” 

Goyle brightened. “I am the one who should be pleased. Of course I will stand by your side, you can expect nothing less from me. When the time comes, I will act as a general and follow your orders to the letter.” His expression faltered somewhat and he sighed. “I am afraid the same cannot be said for Vincent. He has decided to follow his father.”

Draco pressed his lips together, sad to hear that. “I hope he does not regret that choice later. No matter, this is about you, not him. I am grateful for your support. That brings me to a total of four…you, Pansy, Viktor Krum, and Charlie Weasley.” 

Greg’s surprised face at the last name was priceless. Draco smirked. “I was just as surprised as you are. There are…circumstances. I will explain when I can. For now, I think it is safer that you remain in the dark. Nevertheless, you and Pansy have been by my side the longest. Hopefully I can sway Blaise, or even Theodore, to my side as well. Do you have any thoughts on who else may be interested?” 

Goyle frowned, deep in thought. “If we could gather a few from other houses, that would be of great assistance. But it is difficult to know who to trust. I will think about it, do some investigating, and report my findings. Blaise will surely support you, and Theo…hard to say. It is worth approaching him, at least. Other than searching for potential allies, is there anything else you would have me do?” 

Draco smiled fondly at his friend. “I am your friend, Greg, not your commander. I trust your judgment. If you notice anything that you feel is worth pursuing, you should go for it.”

Greg smirked back. “To me, you are both. Thanks for believing in me, Draco. I won’t let you down, and I hope that you will unburden yourself as more people stand beside you. Lately, we worry for you.” He patted Draco’s sleeve before standing and striding away. 

Draco was unsure how to respond to that, ignoring the slight flutter of happiness. He had never expected Greg to disobey his father in order to follow his lead. He wondered absentmindedly what he had ever done to gain such loyalty from his friends. Those from Slytherin knew that family came first, and that is what he expected from his peers. With a small smile, Draco returned to his bed and began to draw up some plans for the ritual with Viktor tomorrow. If performed correctly, ritual bonds could increase the power of the parties involved, and that was one outcome Draco certainly wouldn’t mind. Between classes this morning, he had retrieved a book on alliance rituals, and he scanned the book now looking for any interesting bits to incorporate. 

A traditional Pureblood alliance ritual bound two families together, magically compelling each to look out for the other family’s interests as they would their own. Neither family could tell a lie to the other, whether verbal, written, or even just attempting to conceal. The compulsion in both of these guidelines was similar to what the Veritaserum potions induced. When in danger or in good times, the families were contracted to stand beside the other and give support. The magical obligation was strongest upon the two individuals who completed the rituals, and the rest of the family was only bound to not lie and not hurt their allied family. The rules upon Viktor and Draco went further: they were obligated to protect their allies at the expense of themselves, whether the danger be physical, mental, or social.   
Draco had in mind a few additions as well. To go along with the necessity of assisting the other, he intended to build a charm into the ritual that summoned Viktor to the scene when he was in danger, or vice versa. The charm was rather like a mix between a Portkey and an alarm spell. He was also prepared to discuss the possibility of a communication spell with the Bulgarian seeker. If not a spell, at least the purchase of two items that allowed them to communicate directly rather than by owl. Because Viktor would be returning to Durmstrang following the Tournament, such a method of open communication would become very useful and needed. 

He would take the book with him in the morning and see if Viktor had any additional ideas. They couldn’t build too many things into the ritual at the risk of it needing more magical power than the two boys were capable of producing, so they would simply have to stick to the most important few. 

Checking the time and realizing that he had about an hour before students were expected to be in their dormitories, Draco stood and wondered out again, lost in thought. As he meandered around the corridors (careful to keep away from those who might wish him harm), a strange sight caught his eye. 

Some distance down the hallway a younger student was crouched down on the floor and seemed to be intensely observing the wall. Draco recognized the dirty blonde, scraggly hair as belonging to Luna Lovegood, called Looney Lovegood by many. Draco had never spoken to her personally, but he knew her by reputation. In fact, she was probably the only Ravenclaw he actually knew anything about. The rest of her house mostly kept to themselves. 

Although he kept it completely to himself and would never admit it out loud, Draco had a bit of sympathy for Luna. This was due to his doubt that Dumbledore would allow a truly crazy person into Hogwarts. That meant that Luna was not crazy. The fact that she was a Ravenclaw should have further emphasized her sound mind and intelligence. Draco knew what it was like to be called crazy just because one’s level of understanding was beyond other people’s level. It was hurtful and made you feel as if you were an outcast just because you had a special gift. He suspected that was the case for Luna. 

For once he let his curiosity overwhelm his caution, and he moved to the girl’s side. Crouching, he tried to get a glimpse of what she was looking at. Luna didn’t look at him, but she did smile and acknowledge him. “Hello, Draco Malfoy.” Her voice sounded whimsical and young. 

Draco could see nothing, but that didn’t mean that there was nothing there. “Hello, Luna. What do you see?”

His question seemed to have surprised her, because she met his eyes and tilted her head. “Not as much as you see, Draco Malfoy. But I still see some things, things that you cannot see. Like Wrackspurts.” She smiled fondly and patted his knee. 

Draco blinked. What an odd girl. “What are Wrackspurts?”

Luna nodded sagely. “They are invisible. They float around your head and make your brain go fuzzy.” 

Draco considered that, sinking back onto his heels a little more. “Are they harmful, helpful, or neither?” 

Luna giggled, seeming to find his question entertaining. “Well, that depends on if you are good or evil, silly. Or, like you, a bit of both.” Her misty eyes sparkled. 

Draco couldn’t help the smile that slipped across his face. It was tiny, but genuine. Somehow, he felt a strong connection to this slip of a girl. “Perhaps you see more than you think.”

“It is a possibility. We are always more capable than what we expect of ourselves.” Luna sat on the floor, cross-legged, and stared intently into Draco’s stone-colored eyes. “As are you. Remember that when the time comes.”

“Are you a Seer?” Draco asked the question nonchalantly, but on the inside he was anxious. 

She only laughed. “No, I am a lesser Seer, what is known as a psychic. I told you before, you see more than I do.”

So she knew…”What is the difference between a psychic and a Seer?” Draco asked, sincerely curious. 

“A Seer sees beyond the physical world, glimpsing images that cannot be seen by the human eye alone. A psychic feels, sees, or hears a message within a reality that others cannot notice. I sense things about people, looking into their auras, and receive a message or feeling from this sixth sense of mine. You go out of the physical reality to see things about important people, outside time. You see their pasts…and their futures. Never the present, for that is what I do.” Luna’s eyes seemed to glow, coming alive as she offered an explanation. 

Seemingly out of the blue, Draco again questioned her. “What do you think of Dumbledore?”

She narrowed her eyes at him a little. “Not an innocent question, but an important one. I see…” Seeming to notice something by looking him over, she again patted his knee. “Dumbledore is a great wizard and a kind man, but his sight is narrow and he misses much. I support his cause, but perhaps not only his cause. What is important to him I that Voldemort is defeated. He has given little thought to what comes afterward.”

Getting to the heart of his question, Draco stoically continued to meet Luna’s eyes. His expression was very serious. “And what do you think about the lack of a strong neutral party, the lack of a bridge between the two viewpoints?” 

She hissed like an offended cat. Draco jumped at the unexpected sound. “Dangerous. Your thoughts are very dangerous, Draco Malfoy. There are a small handful of people who could effectively be that bridge. Being a bridge between two warring sides means being a target. The danger is why no one does it openly. Dangerous, very dangerous. But perhaps for some…the right path.” Unpredictably, she pulled him into a strong sitting hug, miraculously not touching his skin. Her soft, melodious voice whispered in his ear and reverberated through his whole body. 

“It will seem dark, so dark. You will wonder in the dark so long it will leave its mark on you, and you will feel as if you will never escape the darkness. But when you do…the light will be more glorious than anything in this world and you will realize that all that time spent lost in the darkness was worth it. Despite your troubles, never will you deal with anything more difficult than fighting against your own soul.” With those ominous words, her grip tightened on him for a few moments before she released him and stood. Her frame must have disguised a hidden strength, because she pulled him to his feet along with her, grasping his sleeve. He was still frozen, and he stared into her eyes, seeking answers. He found nothing there but compassion and sorrow. When she started to speak again, he had to jolt himself out of his daze. 

“I hope you count me as an ally and friend, Draco Malfoy. You face a difficult path, and my help is offered freely, as is my silence.” She extended her hand, waiting for his response. 

Despite his aversion to touch, after a few moments of deliberation he reached out and grasped the tiny fingers firmly. “I accept, and I extend the same to you.” Flashes, intense in color and vibrancy, assaulted his vision. Luna learning about her psychic abilities from her father, reading the Quibbler together, her shoes being taken by students who taunted her, Looney, she’s just Looney Lovegood…he pushed his way through the images and released her hand, somehow soothed by her presence almost like a Calming Draught. 

As an afterthought, Draco added solemnly, “If the ridicule ever gets to be too much, come to me. I understand, and I will silence them. Or, if that is not what you want…I will just be there for you.”   
Luna’s eyes twinkled, and her lips quirked into a charming crooked smile. “Thank you, Draco. I must go now, before the Nargles find me. Farewell.” Again pulling him into a hug without touching his skin, she squeezed tightly before turning and scurrying away. 

Running a hand through his hair, Draco realized with amusement that he couldn’t remember the last time he received a hug, yet tonight he had been hugged twice. Yes, Luna was a positive force in his life already. He would have to keep her around. Returning to the dorms, he prepared himself to sleep, and for the ritual early in the morning. 

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Draco rose around five in the morning, attending to his hygiene before quickly gathering his things and darting out of the grounds, somewhat near the Forbidden Forest. He felt the slight shift and he left the wards, and was happy to see that Viktor had not yet arrived. Beginning preparations, Draco drew a few runes and began readying the steps, checking the methodology for accuracy as he went. 

A few minutes later, Viktor arrived at smiled at Draco being a busybody. “Is there anything I should do?” He questioned the young blonde. Breaking from his trance, Draco looked up. “Check over my notes there about what I thought of adding in, and give me your thoughts.”

Viktor did as requested. “It looks good. The only thing I would add on top of that would be the ability to draw upon each other’s magic in an emergency, especially for healing. Such an addition would also allow for a powerful combination when we fight together.” 

Draco nodded in agreement. “That sounds excellent. We can tie it in with the magic boosting rune.” Viktor had always been better at practice than theory, so he let Draco take care of all the initial preparations with gladness. He instead turned his focus to Draco, watching as the Slytherin worked. 

Maybe ten minutes later, Draco stood up and fetched his notes, scribbling down a few runes to see how he would add in Viktor’s idea. His face brightened when he figured it out, and he added the final touches to the array on the ground before them. With a wave of his wand, the small bowl and knife Viktor had brought glided into the center of the circle. Draco muttered a quick _Incindio_ spell, catching the magical ingredients in the bowl ablaze. He turned to Viktor with a cocky smirk, pleased at his work. “Ready to begin?”

Viktor stepped into the circle, and he and Draco both added their blood into the burning bowl. Together, the chanted the ritual and pressed their bleeding hands together in a move similar to a handshake.   
The intricate runes around them glowed with magic, and the air was heavy with it. Abruptly, the fire in the bowl died and cooled. Stooping down, Viktor and Draco collected a handful of the warm coals and pressed them to the wounds in each other’s palms. The wounds sizzled close, and a silvery mark swirled into their skin: Viktor’s hand bore a snake, and Draco’s palm glittered with a crescent moon.   
The bond had been formed, and they had officially entered into a Pureblood alliance. The runes around them vanished into smoke, drifting into the sky. Even the blood on the knife disappeared without a trace, wiped clean by the magic they had just initiated. 

Viktor grinned broadly at his friend. “You did well. Everything went perfectly; that was very smooth and painless.”

Draco preened, just a little. “It worked brilliantly.” He agreed. “Now we need to test it all.” Narrowing his eyes in concentration, he touched the silver moon and carefully sent a mental sentence to Viktor. _Can you hear me?_

_Loud and clear!_ Viktor replied promptly. 

Draco’s grin was wide. “Most excellent. I suppose we won’t be able to test the rest until we are in danger, unfortunately.” 

Viktor nodded. “There is one more thing…” he tried to say ‘I am a Hogwarts student,’ but it was a lie, so the words wouldn’t leave his lips. “That seems to be in order as well. It appears I cannot lie to you.”

Draco nodded absentmindedly and glanced at the position of the sun. “Sorry to cut things short, but I need to return to the castle before I am missed. Let me know if you need anything.” He looked pointedly at Viktor’s palm before muttering, “Accio broom.” Catching the broom, he smiled at Viktor and added, “Good luck in the First Task!” before flying away. 

As Draco flew, his mind had already moved on to the next hurdle: the meeting with Charlie Weasley. Based on the hints Luna had given him, he knew what it was that the visions were pushing for: a strong and central neutral figure. Perhaps Charlie was the one…as he entered the wards, he was surprised to see Potter wandering around alone. He tried to move out of sight, but the sound the broom made cutting through the air caught the Boy-Who-Lived’s attention. A triumphant look crossed the Gryffindor’s face before Draco zoomed out of sight. Rolling his eyes and hoping Potter wouldn’t cause trouble for him later, Draco returned to his dormitory. 

It was just now around seven in the morning, and his year-mates looked relieved when he entered the room. “Where were you, Draco? We were beginning to think something bad had happened. You know it’s not safe to wander around alone.” Blaise and Goyle were the only ones in the room. 

Lifting his palm, Draco flashed the silver mark at them. “I was securing an ally. Sorry to have worried you, shall we go to breakfast?” 

Goyle snorted at his nonchalant manner. “I guess we shouldn’t have worried.” Blaise met Draco’s eyes. “Greg told me a bit of what is going on. I want you to know that you have my full support. Like Pansy, I will not be in danger from it. My mother has chosen no side, so feel free to utilize me when it comes to dealing with sensitive matters.” 

Draco smiled warmly, catching his two friends by surprise. “Thank you. I must say I am relieved.” The smile melted into a smirk. “Things are progressing faster than I expected. Greg, keep talking to Theo. I think he will come around as well. Oh, and Blaise…could you see about the Greengrass girls?” He paused, turning back to Goyle. “I think you are right about allying with people in the other houses, but don’t worry about Ravenclaw. Focus on finding one person in Hufflepuff. Gryffindor may not be as easy…since they all love Potter so much.” He sneered. “When either of you see Pansy, will you ask her to keep an eye on Potter for me, by the way? He has been following me around and it is starting to become irritating.”

Blaise chuckled. “I will let her know.” Grin growing more devilish, he added teasingly, “Potter always has been rather obsessed with you. I am not surprised he turned into a stalker.”

Draco snarled, rolling his eyes at Blaise. “Everyone in this damn school is bloody obsessed with me. As for Potter, apparently he thinks I am some sort of Death Eater in training. He confronted me already and I told him to get lost and focus on staying alive. Clearly he is too stupid to listen.” 

They reached the Great Hall and strode in dramatically, Blaise and Goyle flanking Draco on either side. Moving to the Slytherin table, those occupying the center of the table scooted down to make room for the three newly arrived Fourth Year students. 

Blaise slid in next to Pansy and quickly whispered Draco’s instructions into her ear. She nodded resolutely and grinned wickedly at Draco, who sighed in annoyance. Obviously her thoughts were along the same line as Blaise’s. 

Goyle quietly made conversation. “So an alliance ritual with Krum, hmm? He seems a good choice of ally, what with his fame and international connections.”

Draco nodded, not paying much attention to the conversation. His eyes were scanning the Hufflepuff table. “He was the one to seek me out, actually. But I was happy to accept, of course.” Draco was too preoccupied to notice Potter’s entrance into the Great Hall and how his eyes were locked on Draco, boiling with anger and suspicion. Blaise and Pansy, however, noticed right away and frowned at each other. That level of anger was dangerous, and there was a distinct possibility that the messy-haired Gryffindor would go after Draco, something they would not allow. Pansy resolved them to figure out how Potter was watching Draco. Most of the time even his own house didn’t know of his whereabouts, so there had to be something there. 

Pansy, Blaise, Greg, and Draco finished their breakfasts and headed to class. Today was Friday: History of Magic, Charms, and Double Potions. The First Task would take place tomorrow, so today Draco had two things to complete. He needed to develop a plan with Charlie and also woo some Pureblood contacts to appease his father and abate his suspicion. 

He settled into a desk and began to plot during History of Magic. In all seriousness, he didn’t trust Charlie nearly as much as he trusted his Slytherins, and even to them he would not bring up his secret. Charlie was in a unique position of knowing too much about what Draco could do, yet he had done nothing to earn that secret. To Draco, it was quite infuriating. Under normal circumstances, a Weasley would be the last person he would trust because of Ron’s poor impression upon him. 

While Charlie had yet to do anything Draco could hold against him, it was really only a matter of time. Like Potter, despite his heritage Draco sincerely doubted that Charlie Weasley knew anything about Wizarding tradition. 

It was truly baffling to Draco. Light did not mean good and dark did not mean evil, so why did the Wizarding world insist on categorizing magic as such? It had so many consequences, the least of which was complete ignorance of deeper aspects of magic. There was so much understanding and richness lost because the Ministry of Magic labeled some magic as “dark” and therefore evil. Truthfully, there were many dark spells that did more good than light spells. Dark healing, in particular, was a beneficial art that was lost when the Ministry began to tell wizards what types of magic they could and could not do. People had died because of these laws, many more people than those who had died using dark magic before it was illegal. After all, such laws did not deter those who wished to use dark magic for nefarious purposes, only those who used it for good. 

All these laws resulted in was unnecessary prejudice against dark magic, seeing how the only examples wizards now had of dark magic were criminals, willing to defy the law in order to get what they wanted. It was maddening and made Draco want to shake the Minister of Magic until he could actually see clearly again. 

Leaving behind those thoughts, Draco refocused his mind of Charlie Weasley. These kind of topics needed to be discussed between them before Draco could put any trust into the Dragon Tamer’s decisions. If the elder Weasley refused to listen and remained deeply rooted in his prejudices, then there was absolutely nothing Draco could do and he would just give up now. It was his hope that Charlie would listen patiently and see the reasoning behind his words. 

Stopping his thoughts for a moment, Draco became aware of Blaise and Theo passing notes. He hoped Blaise was convincing. From the look on Theodore’s face it was working. Perhaps his acceptance of Blaise’s words also had something to do with Pansy, who Draco happened to know he was very much enamored with. 

Concerning Charlie, though…Draco wasn’t as hopeful that he would see things in the same light. Most of Charlie’s deepest thoughts were firmly anchored to his family, who were completely adamant in siding with Dumbledore. While Draco did not plan to go directly against the old Headmaster, he did envision using some methods that Dumbledore and his following would definitely not approve of. Whether Charlie would accept that…Draco had no way of knowing, but he did doubt it. 

The doubt cut into him, pulling out his insecurities. Always, he had looked at the world through the lens of logic, and people criticized him for his coldness. Draco had never understood it: what he sad and believed were all based on facts. He was not emotionless, but his head did rule his heart and he had never seen it as a bad thing until he began to be hated for his aloof nature. He didn’t understand the hotheaded impulsiveness of those like Ron Weasley, who followed their hearts seemingly without care for the facts. 

So what if he didn’t feel the same way that everyone else seemed to? In his opinion, following emotions could result in extremely stupid decisions. Despite the logic of it all, sometimes it still hurt to be called cold and uncaring, or even worse, ruthless. To hear the same words from Charlie Weasley would be another blow to one of Draco’s weak points, even if it was what he expected.   
Scowling at his weakness, Draco quickly moved on to think about something else. He tried to outline his main points to get across to Charlie in his head.

First, dark magic was not evil and making it illegal actually killed more people than it saved. There were many accounts of illnesses previously able to be easily healed by dark healers now taking the lives of many. There were some things that light healing could not heal, and other things that were just made infinitely more difficult. Some relational rituals, such as the Pureblood alliance Draco had performed earlier, were perfectly harmless but still illegal. Fear of dark magic being used was poisoning the minds of wizards and weakening their understanding of magic. 

Secondly, since dark magic had been banned, Muggles were beginning to pass wizards in their scientific discoveries and detection devices, leaving wizards in danger of being discovered. So much focus was being directed towards apprehending dark wizards that magic research had pretty much come to a standstill. No significant discoveries were being made, and magical power was beginning to decrease because of the educational system. Hogwarts had turned into a school that just taught the basics and practical spells, not the theory behind how spells and magic worked. Students were taught to follow the teacher, not think for themselves and create new things with magic. Wizards were becoming less creative and simply performing the same spells as all the other students, no longer branching out into their own specializations and adding understanding to their field. There were exceptions to the rule, of course, but the majority of wizards who graduated from Hogwarts were mediocre at best.   
Next, Wizarding customs and culture were being lost. There was a certain beauty and intrigue in Pureblood customs, the customs that were now looked down upon as old-fashioned. Okay, maybe some of the customs were ridiculous, but for the most part the rules and structure were enriching rather than burdensome. Only wealthy Pureblooded families such as the Malfoys and Parkinsons bothered to instruct their offspring in the traditions during this modern age. Out of his close friends, Draco and Pansy were the only two deeply familiar with the customs. Greg only had a surface understanding, and Mrs. Zabini had not bothered to teach Blaise about the traditional ways. It was disheartening to Draco that such an important part of Wizarding heritage was being lost. Personally, he found the customs charming and, dare he say it, in some cases such as traditional Pureblood courtship, downright romantic. Perhaps they were conservative and a little rustic, but that was part of their charm. 

Though there were other points, Draco decided to focus mainly on these three pillars. They were the most worrying and the most convincing to him. He only hoped that Charlie would at least consider what he had to say. 

He emerged from his racing thoughts as his classmates started to stand, indicating that the class was over. Charms was next, then a lunch break during which he would meet Charlie. He really hoped things went well during the meeting. If they went poorly he still had to face Potter in Double Potions and he was quite angry with the git. It would only be worse if the meeting with Charlie put him in a foul mood before the class even began. 

He let out a deep sighed as they walked to Charms and Pansy frowned at him. “Draco, what’s wrong? You’ve been brooding all morning.” She touched the shoulder of his robe, squeezing comfortingly. “You know you have our help now. What are you worrying about?”

Draco’s heart warmed at the kind gesture but outwardly he didn’t acknowledge it. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Pans. I just have to meet someone I really don’t trust, and I am predicting that they won’t listen to what I have to say because of their prejudice toward me.” 

Pansy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You aren’t meeting Potter, are you?” 

Draco shook his head. “No, you know I have no interest in Potter. He has been full of Dumbledore’s propaganda for too long for even me to salvage. Potter is the last person on earth I would want on my side. Well, besides the Weasel.” He grimaced. His “ally” might as well be Ron Weasley, he thought uncharitably. He was really coming to resent these visions of his…

Pansy looked relieved. “Good, because I am afraid he is going to do something to hurt you. You be careful, Draco. Don’t go anywhere alone that he can get to you. If you end up fighting, you know that you will always be the one to take the blame. He will get out of any punishment just because he is the Golden Boy.”

Draco nodded, though in all honesty Potter was very low on his list of concerns right now. They entered the Charms classroom and took their seats, focusing on the lesson. 

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After Charms, Draco hurried to the seventh floor. His stomach was in knots in his nervousness. 

Charlie leaned against the wall. He smiled when he caught sight of the Slytherin. “Draco! It is good to see you. I just came from the Gryffindor Tower. Ginny in particular was very curious and nosy about my ‘mysterious meeting.’ I think they all assumed I was here to help Dumbledore with something.”

The mention of the old wizard’s name made Draco’s lip curl slightly. Charlie noticed it but didn’t comment. “You’re just on time, Draco. Let me show you something.” Draco watched as Charlie paced the hall three times, looking deep in thought. Suddenly, a door appeared and Charlie grasped the handle and pulled, beckoning Draco inside. “This is the Room of Requirement. Just think of what you need, and it will appear. Nifty, right?” 

Draco stepped inside and looked around, wide-eyed. It was very impressive, for sure. “I had no idea a place like this even existed.” 

Charlie chuckled. “Most students don’t. That’s why we are meeting here.”

The room they found themselves in looked like what Draco imagined the Weasley house looked like. None of the furniture matched and the colors clashed horribly, but somehow the room was cozy and welcoming. Sun streamed in from a window that obviously wasn’t real, but the light put Draco more at ease somehow. “Have you come to any decisions regarding me?” Draco asked regally.   
The Dragon Tamer beamed at him. “Of course I am going to help! Now tell me what I can do.”

Draco sighed. He was afraid Charlie didn’t quite understand what he was getting himself into. “Even if helping me goes against what Dumbledore, or even your family, believes is the right course of action? I may not support the Dark Lord, but I am sure that you will still find many of my choices morally repulsive. Are you able to accept that, and not question what I ask you to do? Because if you are just trying to do this as some sort of ‘redeem the Malfoy’ plan, give up now. I know what I believe and I cannot support Dumbledore. If you truly want to help me, neither can you.”

Charlie was taken aback at Draco’s blunt and harsh words. “If I may ask, what issues do you have with Dumbledore? It seems to me that you have similar goals.”

Draco knew Charlie wasn’t taking him seriously. It had been evident since the beginning, and here was further proof. “My issues with Dumbledore and with the Ministry revolve around the same issue…dark magic, and their hatred of it. They go too far, and if they win the war it will only be a matter of time before another one starts because of their treatment of Purebloods.” The Dragon Tamer looked confused, so Draco elaborated. “The Ministry of Magic basically made the Pureblood lifestyle illegal. To people like me, joining up with Voldemort is the only way to preserve magic. You might think it is overly dramatic, but in truth it is very sensible.”

Charlie was frowning now. “Go on. Why are they concerned about preserving magic?”

Draco took a deep breath. Well, at least he seemed to be listening. “Look at the records for the past hundred years. Magical research is decreasing significantly since dark magic was banned. More people are dying each year since dark magic was banned, and not at a constant rate because of population increases. Diseases that were once healed easily by dark magic healers are now taking hundreds of lives. Each year more and more Pureblood lines are dying out, and the number of wizards is also rapidly declining. Some of that can be attributed to the war, but most of it seems to correlate with the Ministry forbidding dark magic. There are too many coincidences in the numbers to dismiss what is going on: magic is slowly dying out.” He paused and met Charlie’s eyes. “Muggles are getting more advanced and closer to finding out about the Wizarding world every day because we have not advanced at the same pace. Dark magic is not evil any more than light magic is good. They are both tools, and an evil person can hurt someone with light and dark magic alike. Making dark magic illegal is only preventing wizards from using it for good, and it is taking its toll on the population. Those who want to use it for evil will do it regardless of what the law says. All that Dumbledore cares about is wiping out dark magic, and he doesn’t seem to care that he might be hastening the destruction of all magic.”

Again, he stopped to let Charlie catch up and really hear what he was saying. “You cannot deny that the Wizarding world is only changing once prejudice for another. If Dumbledore wins the war, Purebloods will practically be annihilated for doing what they thought was saving their entire world. The Purebloods that do remain will be shunned and hated, and will have no place in Wizarding society any longer. Pureblood customs may seem like a load of bullshit to Muggleborns and families like yours, who have turned their backs on the old ways, but they are important to us. The customs are based upon respect for other wizards and they give our social lives structure. Isn’t it enough that they make us happy? I don’t mind at all if some wizards choose not to live by the customs. However, leaving wizards completely unaware of history and tradition is unacceptable. Dumbledore never should have cut it out of the Hogwarts curriculum. Wizards like Harry Potter have no idea of how offensive their behavior can be to Purebloods, nor has anyone attempted to educate them in order to avoid such slights. Purebloods may have started some feuds by degrading Muggleborns, but now the tables are turning and Purebloods are the ones being disregarded and hated without justification. Neither option is acceptable to me: these prejudices are exactly what Dumbledore and Voldemort are squabbling over. Don’t you see that there are deeper issues at stake here?” The longer Draco’s speech went on, the louder he began to speak until he was practically yelling. Fists clenched, he moved toward Charlie, eyes filled with sparks. “This childish pointing the finger at everyone but ourselves has to stop before it destroys us all.”

Charlie was speechless as he stared into Draco’s flint-colored eyes, shocked to see the icy Malfoy blow his top. “If this is really an issue, then why isn’t anyone talking about it?” he managed finally.   
Draco tried to calm himself down, but it was difficult. “Both sides are too caught up in how much they’ve been wronged to look at the real cause of this dispute, and what needs to be done in order to actually improve things. They are so focused on regaining what they have lost to understand that two wrongs doesn’t make a right. The only research being done now is for suppressing and detecting dark magic, as well as offensive spells and such for dueling. No one cares anymore about healing, or about deeply understand what it is that allows magic to exist and thrive, or about becoming stronger and more powerful. All people want is to be good enough to make a living and get by. People are only concerned about making their own lives easy. A century ago, wandless magic was common and easily performed. Because dark magic was disallowed, wizard’s power levels have begun to decrease dramatically. What few scholars remain are constantly publishing warnings and raving about how much of a danger this is…but no one is listening.” 

Draco continued, “Nothing about this is mentioned in our educational system, and the Ministry does not require its employees to keep up on current research or even further their knowledge of magic. They are content to remain at the same level they are at after graduating from Hogwarts. Muggleborns are not even taught about wizarding researches, past or present, or given any indication that such research exists and can add value to their understanding of magic. Even the Hogwarts library has not been updated for years and bans many new titles because they are ‘controversial.’” He stepped into Charlie’s personal space and spoke quietly, voice low and solemn. “Since when did education become about telling us what we must believe? From what I understand, the goal of education is to guide students into discovering for themselves what to believe, through proof and facts.” With a vicious swipe through the air with his palm, Draco declared hotly, “Hogwarts has become a place for the Ministry to brainwash students rather than a school for students to learn about magic. That is the reason no one knows about this issue…and the reason that I refuse to follow Dumbledore, the instigator behind all of this hiding of truth.”


	4. Treacherous Thoughts

Charlie's mind was reeling after the influx of information Draco had just spouted at him. He carefully sank back into a seat, away from Draco. The boy may be younger than him and quite small physically, but his presence was overpowering Charlie at the moment due to the ferocity of his words. In fact, it felt rather akin to one of the dragons shooting a few spurts of flames in his direction, and the heat forcing him to back up and give some space. 

Realizing how forceful he was being, Draco quickly composed himself and sat a few feet away from Charlie, mentally scolding himself. _Now that you practically yelled in his face for ten minutes, of course he will agree with you! Oh, well done Draco, you stupid wanker…_

Contrary to his expectations, Charlie didn’t immediately tell him how rude he was or storm away, so that was something at least. In fact, his expression was unexpectedly pensive, as if Draco had not just criticized everything that his family held dear. 

“Draco…wow.” Running a shaky hand through his hair, Charlie chuckled. “How long have you been holding that rant in?” Draco opened his mouth to apologize but Charlie waved it off. “Relax, it’s fine. I am not mad. Actually, you losing your cool has convinced me that this is something I will have to look into. If it is really as bad as you say, then something needs to be done.” He folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “Even if my family doesn’t exactly agree.”

Checking the time quickly, Draco made sure he wasn’t in danger of missing Double Potions. He still had plenty of time to spare. He waited for the elder Weasley to continue speaking.

Charlie sighed heavily. “I guess, to answer your original question, if I research this and find out that everything you told me is correct, then…yes, I am willing to abide by your decision, even if my conscience tells me it is wrong. I can’t promise not to question you if I think you are out of line, but I think we can work it out together and make sure everything gets sorted.” 

Draco nodded in agreement. “I think that’s acceptable. I have no doubt that your findings will coincide with mine, so I will leave the investigation into my claims to you. In the meantime, though, we need to figure out who the Death Eater is that is interfering in the Tournament. Being involved in the inner workings of the Tournament, you will have more chances to do so than I will. The first matter that we need to take care of is making sure that you are around for each task. I know you are here because of the dragons, but they likely won’t ask you back for the next few tasks. You need to ensure they do, somehow. Use Dumbledore if you have to, just don’t explain your motivation. Obviously if we are going to stop this, according to my vision you have to be around to help me.” Draco paused, eyes seeming thoughtful. “Do you think there are any others in your family who could be persuaded to help you? The twins, perhaps?” 

Charlie shrugged. “It is entirely possible, but those two are pretty unpredictable. After I do some research, I can show it to them and see what they say. Ginny might come around, too, but I am afraid she is too enamored with Harry at the time to go against Dumbledore.” 

Draco nodded. “Do that as well, then. I need people in all houses and I have no doubt that Gryffindor is rather closed to me currently.” He paused. “You can trust Viktor Krum; he knows I am a Seer. All the Champions except Potter know, actually. If they can be of use to you, feel free to involve them. Just don’t tell them why they are in danger. I didn’t really share any details with them about the events of the Tournament.” _Time will tell if you betray my trust or if you are actually on my side, Charlie Weasley._

Draco stood, and strode to the window, sunlight hitting his figure and bathing his white-blonde hair in its warm rays. The Malfoys had always been a gorgeous family, and Draco was no different. A sudden grimace crossed the young Slytherin’s face, marring his features. “As much as I loathe admitting it, once you have collected the research it would probably be wise to inform Granger as well. I have no desire or hope that the Golden Trio will turn against Dumbledore, but at least this might prevent them from following blindly. Granger is a smart girl, she will take this seriously. Unlike your brother and Potter.” He kept his tone neutral, but his eyes held a hint of anger. 

He hadn’t been lying when he told himself that he was over Potter’s rejection of his friendship in favor of Ron. The real issue to Draco was a mixture of two things: Harry’s complete ignorance of Pureblood customs and, more importantly, his complete lack of responsibility. 

While it was not often spoken about, many of the Gryffindor boys around Harry’s age had a vicious streak when it came to those from the Slytherin House. While Draco had never been a target personally (he was too well-protected by his house-mates) Tracey Davis had been sent to the hospital wing on three occasions in the past two years for quite serious injuries. 

Although Slytherin often had a reputation for being bullies, most of the time it was just verbal. Physical fighting was beneath a Slytherin. The few times things did escalate to hex throwing, it was always initiated by the other houses. Draco would be the first to admit that this was not due to any particular feelings of kindness, but rather to avoid taking the blame. Slytherins did self-preservation best, after all, and starting fights was never in a Slytherin’s favor. It demonstrated both a lack of composure and the inability to best the opponent with words alone. Also, Slytherin was hated enough without adding the infamy of starting fights. The fact that Harry had so little control over his own house was sloppy to Draco, and the Slytherin house was suffering because of Potter’s lack of maturity. 

Many would find Draco’s justification ludicrous. Harry Potter was not a prefect and was in fact not even an upperclassman. To Draco, though, these were just excuses. They followed what Potter said and would not question him. Potter knew about the influence he had within his house, but he didn’t use it unless it benefitted him. In fact, Potter showed a remarkable but exasperating amount of irresponsible behavior all throughout many aspects of his life. 

If Draco were to be brutally honest with himself (but why would he do that when it was just so much easier to avoid such thoughts), he would be forced to admit that he was jealous of Potter. Despite his hero status and prestige in the Wizarding world, Harry was still allowed to be a child and do nearly anything he wanted without reparations or admonitions. That innocent freedom was what Draco desired, but he had never been in possession of. Even if his Seer abilities did not shockingly open his eyes to the ways of the world, his Father was probably the strictest man alive, and he would not tolerate bouts of childish behavior now and more than he would have when Draco was actually a child. 

Though he was strict, Lucius Malfoy was no drill sergeant. If the study and seriousness became too much, he allowed Draco moments of play and freedom from tutoring. Even so, those moments had been rare and still tightly controlled. Draco didn’t mind that, precisely…all of the things his Father had done to teach him and that had shaped him into a person with both formidable magic and intelligence. No, it wasn’t the freedom to goof off that the young Malfoy coveted, but the blissful ignorance. 

Draco’s mind was a dark, twisted place. He had Seen too many things to act like a teenage boy playing around with his mates at school. He wasn’t that person, as much as he wished he was, and he never would be. Always, the knowledge that the world was falling apart around them was heavy and present in Draco’s thoughts. The notion weighed him down and made him unable to relax and have fun. How could he have fun when hundreds were dying? When he had heard the tortured screams of Muggles, Muggleborns, and Purebloods alike? 

Morbid, perhaps. But how could he think otherwise? He may have struggled with his own abilities, but he had lived extravagantly in every other way. 

From Draco’s perspective, he had no right to complain, and so he would focus on doing what he could to ease other people’s suffering. Not out of compassion, exactly…it was more motivated by guilt: for having lived an easy life in comparison.

Charlie’s voice interrupted his inner monologue. “Draco?” The young Malfoy turned back to Charlie, face carefully neutral. The Weasley met Draco’s eyes, curious about what was running through the Slytherin Ice Prince’s mind. Instead of asking for the blonde boy’s thoughts, because he knew that Draco wouldn’t answer, he instead said simply, “Don’t worry too much. We will figure this out.” 

He wanted to say more, to reassure the young man that he would be okay, but that was something he couldn’t promise. Draco’s magic was out of control and Charlie currently had no way to help him. What shocked the Dragon Tamer was that he suddenly abhorred the thought of anything bad happening to Draco. He had never been intrigued by someone as quickly as Draco had caught his interest, never felt such a strong pull towards a person. He wanted to protect and watch over Draco, to ensure that he took care of himself. He wanted Draco to begin to open up about himself and what made him happy. Sure, Charlie felt that way about his family and close friends, but never about a complete stranger who he had never expected to speak to in a civil matter, let alone befriend. 

Speaking of his family…there were things that still needed to be said. “I know you said that you won’t join Voldemort because you want to have a choice in life, but I am curious why you don’t agree with his ideals. Could you tell me a little more about that?” 

Draco nodded hesitantly. “I thought I was clear enough, but I can tell you more if you insist.” He seemed more subdued all of a sudden, perhaps because of his self-deprecating thoughts, but Charlie didn’t understand the withdrawal. “I don’t believe in blood purity, for one. Any appearance I gave of such a belief was done only to placate my father and keep him from scrutinizing me too closely.” The sunlight still lit up his features, causing his silver eyes to appear flame-colored. “I don’t believe in the murder of innocents, although our definitions of that word would probably differ. The Dark Lord is not choosy about who he kills, so he has killed the guilty and innocent alike. Following an unstable leader cannot lead to a stable way of life, and I greatly desire stability.” 

“I think I could sum up both of my sentiments toward Dumbledore and Voldemort in this: neither has proved to me that they are worth following. Neither faction has proved that they are going to address the root cause of the trouble, or that they are deserving of my respect. Because of this, I do not wish to follow either one.” Draco concluded. 

Charlie could honestly admit he was surprised to have received such a straightforward answer. “Thank you for telling me.” Just like how a door partly ajar is more intriguing than an open one, Draco seemed to reveal bits and pieces of himself but never the full picture. The Malfoy heir was like the moon…part of him was always hidden away. “There is another thing that I feel is important for us to discuss. Do you know about the history between our families…why they hate each other so much?” Charlie returned to sit, beckoning Draco to follow him. 

The younger man shadowed the Dragon Tamer. “I know very little concerning the situation. As you can imagine, my father isn’t big on explanations.” At the dark humor, the Slytherin gave a wry little twitch of his lips. “I know that my family feels the Weasleys have somehow betrayed the Pureblooded lifestyle, and that your family thinks Malfoys are evil and cruel. The cause of those feelings, however…I am unaware of.” 

Charlie snorted. “I am not sure that any of our family members actually know the root cause. After speaking with you, I did a little investigating.” Resting his hands over his broad chest, Charlie leaned back and settled into the cushions, making himself comfortable. “The Wizarding world has a perception of the Weasley’s being dirt poor, and it has a grain of truth to it. We are not wealthy by any means and sometimes it is a struggle for my family to make ends meet. However, we are not without heritage. We have a Gringotts vault and, just like any other Pureblooded family, a small share of family artifacts and heirlooms. None of them are worth a great amount monetarily.” 

The red-haired man paused, and met Draco’s eyes with a smile. “Some of the things you said made me curious, so I went to our vault to speak with the few Weasley portraits that are kept there. My parents hate the thought of bloodlines and traditional Pureblood customs, so they have kept such things out of our house. Anyways, the portraits had some interesting things to say. I spoke with my great grandmother, Louisa Weasley. It seems that the contention between our families was caused by a difference between her father, Clarence Weasley, and your ancestor Cressida Malfoy. The gist of the story was that the two were lovers. They had been entered into an engagement from a young age by their parents, and over time they fell in love and planned to marry. The world was in chaos in those times because people were beginning to fear Dark Magic. A conflict similar to what we deal with now arose, and circumstances placed the two lovers on either side. Cressida felt betrayed that Clarence would abandon their way of life, and Clarence thought Cressida had no heart for the people that were being persecuted by dark magic. Clarence broke off their engagement and began to court another woman, a sympathetic Pureblood. Cressida declared a blood feud, and the rest is history…or in our case, the present.”

Draco’s mind worked through the words with great speed. “So, you are saying that our families let a lover’s spat ruin relations between each other. You mean to emphasize that the root cause of the disagreement was the use of Dark Magic…which is even now causing our world to spiral into chaos.” 

Charlie Weasley smiled like a proud father. Draco was smarter than he expected, getting right to the heart of the issue despite Charlie’s vague words. “Yes. Our families are practically ensconced in the heart of this issue, going back generations. The blood feud of our ancestors brought the issue into the public eye, just as we need to bring the reverse issue into the public eye now.” 

Draco stared Charlie dead in the eye, and voiced incredulously, “You are not suggesting…?” he trailed off, genuinely shocked. 

Charlie smirked back. “Yes, I am. If we truly want to make the danger of forbidding Dark Magic known to the Wizarding world, then the best way would be to publicly resolve the blood feud between our families.” 

Grasping Charlie’s sleeve beseechingly, Draco tried to keep his voice steady. “Charlie…I know this is something important, but don’t you know what that would do to me? What…” he trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. 

Charlie had no such compunction. “What your father would do to you?” he finished, wishing he could un-see Draco’s violent flinch at his words. The older Weasley instantly desired to have voiced that thought with a little more tact because now Draco was refusing to look at him, shoulders slumped and hair covering his expression. “No, I don’t know what would happen, Draco. I have no idea what your family is like, or what kind of life you would be giving up to reconcile with me publicly.” 

“You really do have no idea what my family is like.” In a rare moment of vulnerability, unseen by Charlie until now, Draco finally met his eyes. They were gleaming with terrible emotion, but not, as Charlie would have expected, tears. In a raspy voice, Draco choked out, “You know, when I was young my father despised me. I had my abilities from a young age, and it caused me to seem imbecilic. I was overly emotional, daydreamed constantly, and looked to my mother to protect me…everything a Malfoy man was not.” 

Draco swallowed hard, as if it was a great burden. It took a while before he spoke again. “I…was punished. After several times, when my father had enough of me crying, he made the punishment a little more severe. I was too weak, I was not cunning or manipulative, and I was not emotionless. Along with the punishment, my father did something drastic, to ensure that I was never so weak again. He placed several charms on me. An anti-crying charm, a charm that lowered my empathy and ability to care about others, an obedience compulsion…and there were others.”

Pale lips pressed together, suppressing tremors from creeping into his voice. “My mom eventually found out and researched the counter charms, but by that point it was too late. I was emotionally damaged, I couldn’t cry, and my father still has the ability to force me to do some things. It was a milder version of _Imperio_ , but because I was under it for so long, its strength grew to rival that of the Unforgivable. I have not attempted to disobey it directly in some time, because I am afraid that I won’t be able to defy him. Instead, I am forced to rebel in…smaller ways.” 

Charlie’s eyes were filled with horror and pity and he stared at Draco, wordless. Unable to come up with anything comforting to say, he instead pulled the Ice Prince into a rough hug, gripping him tightly and trying to offer consolation in that way. 

Draco said nothing, only remained stiffly where he was. True to his word, no tears escaped, and he looked for all the world as if he was just troubled. But Charlie knew he was more than troubled, that his eyes said it all. Sometimes, silence was the most powerful scream. No sound or tears may have come out, but the silver eyes showed Draco’s inner torment. How long had the boy been carrying this burden? 

When they had first met, Charlie had mused inwardly that Draco’s eyes looked too old. After speaking with the young Slytherin more, he had assumed that the maturity was the result of the Seer abilities. Now, he was not so sure. There was a reason that those who used the Imperius curse were sent straight to Azkaban. It was, for all intents and purposes, mind rape. Such a curse robbed someone of their free will and forced them to do things that they would never do otherwise. Perhaps Lucius Malfoy did not use the Imperius curse in name, but the end result was the same: Draco had been controlled like a puppet. 

Charlie couldn’t ever imagine the kind of man that would do such a thing to a child, let alone their own child. He knew for a fact that Draco still loved his father and that perhaps Lucius, in some twisted way, returned that love. He wanted to scream obscenities at the bastard, but Draco would only be hurt further by that. Instead, he stroked the blonde hair, just like he had done many times throughout the years whenever one of his brothers had a nightmare. He murmured comforting words just as he would for them. “It’s all right, Draco.” 

Abruptly, the blonde pulled away, and resolutely met his eyes. “I appreciate what you are trying to do, Charlie. But never comfort me with a lie.” 

And Charlie’s heart ached then, more than it ever had, because he knew that not once had Draco been told those words when it really mattered. Now, he would never accept them. They were mere empty platitudes to the Malfoy heir. 

“I need to go, I have class soon.” Draco’s face was blank, and his eyes empty. 

Charlie’s eyes softened. “Yes, I have talked too much. Think about what I said about the blood feud, please. I know now that the consequences would be worse than I expected, but we can find a way to beat this, Draco. _Imperio_ is the one Unforgivable that people can be trained to resist, and what you have been placed under is likely a weaker version. Between now and the end of the Triwizard Tournament, think about your answer. Regardless of whether you agree or not, I will look for a way to beat this curse…and to repair the damage of the other charms, if possible.” He knew that Draco was drained now, and that later he would regret saying so much. “And Draco…you are the strongest person I know.” 

Draco nodded wordlessly. He was pale and the circles beneath his eyes looked even more unhealthy than usual. “Goodbye.” The voice was like a whisper, soft and sad. Then he was gone, like a gust of wind. 

As soon as the door closed behind Draco, Charlie buried his head deep into his hands and began to swear vehemently. His fists clenched into the red locks of his hair to keep from trembling with anger. While the anger raced through his veins like a drug, he felt only the piercing pain of sorrow in his heart. 

The world was a screwed up place, if a man could get away with putting his own child under anything akin to Imperio. Charlie had never considered himself as violent. Sure, he had a fair dose of the infamous Weasley temper, but he had never been aggressive to the point of violence. Hearing the words that spilled from Draco’s lips concerning his childhood, though, had filled Charlie with a murderous rage he had never known before. 

Exhaling, trying to get his emotions back under control, Charlie threw his head back and stared up at the ceiling. He should…he should visit his siblings again after their classes. Yes, that would help him calm these raging thoughts. 

As he stood to leave, Charlie realized something…Draco had never truly answered his question about what Lucius Malfoy would do to the Slytherin Ice Prince if he became too upset. If Lucius Malfoy had been willing to do something so drastic to a child…how far would he go to discipline Draco now?

It also hadn’t escaped the Dragon Tamer’s notice that Draco had said “and there were others.” 

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Draco left the room in a zombie-like state. He had not wanted to tell Charlie about his secret shame, but it had to be done. Otherwise Charlie wouldn’t understand his refusal to anger his father and would keep pushing him to go against the man. 

He had expected to feel embarrassment at his weakness, or anger at Charlie for again treating him like a child. Instead, he felt nothing. 

After the charms were countered, he had regained some of his emotions with time. To this day, though, many were weakened or even nonexistent. Anger and cruelty were easily managed, and Draco was also able to feel melancholy and fear. Empathy, though, had been the most damaged. Other than a tiny twinge for Luna Lovegood, he had not felt such emotions in a very long time for anyone he was not close to. Happiness? He doubted he would ever feel such a thing, only a sort of content resignation. Even further…to truly love someone? He considered it completely impossible. He appreciated people and could show them care and concern to a small degree. But love? No.

He did not mind being unable to cry, not truly. It was a weakness that his father had corrected. He was also able to convincingly feign emotions he could not feel, and he used those as a mask. Draco did not blame his Father for what he had done: it had solved a personality defect and helped him to perfect himself. He was not surprised; however, that Charlie had been horrified. 

_Maybe that was a little drastic…_

No. He quelled that thought. His father was a good man, and he had only been doing what he thought was right for Draco. He had been weak, and his father had helped him become stronger, to hide his weaknesses behind a facade. He couldn’t begrudge Lucius Malfoy that. 

Composing himself, he glided into Double Potions with barely thirty seconds to spare. Severus gave him a pointed look of warning, but he had not been late so there would be no scolding.   
Draco slid into his seat next to Blaise, who greeted him with a green “Hey, Drake.” As was customary, he scowled back and snapped, “Don’t call me that.” Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and Goyle all chuckled at the familiar response. 

Sensing someone watching him, Draco turned to meet Harry Potter’s emerald green eyes examining him. He was unsure what to make of the Gryffindor boy’s expression: jealousy? Surprise? Or perhaps something entirely different? Draco filed the event away for further analysis, for a time when everything in his head wasn’t so upside down. 

When he turned to look at Potter, Draco’s friends took note and exchanged glances among themselves. 

Snape cut short anything that might have happened by beginning class. Unobtrusively, the Slytherin Head of House took in Draco’s gaunt and exhausted appearance, and reminded himself to check up on his godson later within the privacy of Slytherin House. 

In order to keep Draco from getting more stress lines in his forehead, Severus made sure to keep Potter and his godson as far apart as possible. 

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After class, Draco went with his housemates to the Great Hall for dinner. Because he had skipped lunch to meet with Charlie, his stomach was rumbling something fierce.   
As the Slytherin group took their seats at the center of the table, Draco smiled at Viktor who sat on the bench across from him and greeted him warmly. Viktor greeted him slightly more formally; gold sparks the color of snitches drifting into the air along with his words. He watched Viktor touch the mark on his hand discreetly. _Are you okay, Draco? You seem very…drained._

Stuffing some food into his mouth, Draco touched his own hand. It was admittedly a long day. He paused. Actually, more than most people, Viktor might be able to help him. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. _Viktor, do you have any training in order to resist the Imperius curse?_

Eyes slightly wider, Viktor watched Draco from across the table. _The Imperius curse? I dare not ask why you are interested in such a thing. Yes, it is included in the educational curriculum at Durmstrang._

_Would you be able to teach me how to resist the curse? Or at least improve my chances to resist the curse?_ Draco looked down at his plate, mixing mint sauce into his shepherd’s pie. 

_I would try my best. What is this all about, Draco?_ Viktor shifted in his seat, uncomfortable discussing an Unforgivable over the dinner table, even if it wasn't aloud. 

_I meant to tell you soon…my father placed me under a milder version of the Imperious curse. I need to break free of it. You were not in any danger from me because our blood vow was stronger than his hold on me. My other allies, though…_ Draco’s mental voice was completely emotionless. Strangely enough, he found it very easy to let go of secrets once he’d already told someone. 

Viktor pursed his lips. In Pureblood circles, such a curse was common, but not often used by a father against his son. Such a case was very…extreme. _After the First Task, I will make it my priority._ The Bulgarian Seeker promised.

_Thank you._ Draco glanced up as Fleur slid into the table beside him, giving him a pretty smile. 

“Hello, Draco.” The purplish burgundy drifted from her lips, and she patted the young Malfoy on the sleeve in a friendly manner. She lowered her voice. “You are looking a little tired, is everything okay?” 

Draco smiled back tiredly, his eyes projecting happiness he didn’t feel. “Yes, I am a little stressed but after the First Task I am sure that things will go more smoothly.” He glanced to his left to see Goyle chatting happily with Pansy. With a bit of surprise, he noted that Goyle’s voice had changed color slightly. Before Greg had decided to become neutral, his voice had been a pale yellow, streaked with green. Now, though, the yellow was deeper, and the green was so dark that it bordered on brown. Draco was happy for the change, as darker colors indicated a stronger personality (and in Draco’s opinion, a more interesting person). He folded his hands and covertly touched the moon mark. _Do you have time tonight to start teaching me? I know a good place to meet where things will stay secret._ Draco spoke through their bond rather than aloud, mentally thanking Charlie for sharing such a great meeting spot. 

Viktor spoke to Blaise out loud at the same time he spoke over the bond to Draco. _I can spare some time for you._ His tone was light but genuine. 

_Thank you._ Gratitude flowed through his voice and shone through his eyes. If he could finally be free from his father…the thought sent a heady rush of power through his veins. All his life he had been following the whims of his family, as a Seer he followed the whims of magic, and even at school he always became what other influential people wanted him to be in order to win their favor. If he were to beat the Imperius curse, he felt as if he would finally have a chance to be Draco. Not Malfoy, not the Slytherin Ice Prince, and not the Seer. Just Draco. That chance was both something he had never had before and something he longed for. 

Draco chatted with Fleur for a while, glad to speak with her before the first task began. They were able to deepen their friendship somewhat, which made Draco happy. Other than Pansy, he didn’t have many close female friends because they were often after his money instead of friendship. The Delacour family was a family of wealth, though, so he didn’t have to worry about that from Fleur. 

After the First Task, he would begin in earnest to seek out more allies within Slytherin. He knew there were a few families who were openly neutral and might prove trustworthy, such as the Puceys. After another large bite of his food, he was surprised to see Charlie Weasley entering the Hall with the Golden Trio and Ginevra. I suppose he stuck around to visit them a little longer. A much unexpected pang of jealousy filled him as he watched the three siblings interact, Charlie smiling brightly and ruffling Ginny’s hair. 

He turned back to his food and focused on filling his stomach, trying to ignore the feelings tightening his throat. He didn’t deserve to be happy like them until he fixed things, and he knew it. 

Draco finished his food and touched his hand, telling Viktor, Come with me to the seventh floor corridor. We can talk freely there. He stood up, causing the other Slytherins to start to stand as well. Draco shook his head at them and pointed to Viktor. “I will be well protected.” He teased them with a smirk. 

Fleur snickered. “It was good to talk with you, Draco. Viktor, good luck tomorrow.” 

Viktor nodded once, accepting the well wishes. “And to you.” He responded neatly. He stood and followed Draco towards the doors. 

Everyone watched them leave, either surprised that two people of such wide age gaps would be acquaintances, wishing they could take Draco’s place, or desiring to know what the two popular boys discussed together. 

Draco avoided Charlie’s eyes as they left, even though he would have guessed that the Dragon Tamer was looking. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed firmly in front of him.

He and Viktor walked together to the seventh floor in silence, both too suspicious to discuss things in an unsecured location. When they arrived there, Draco followed what Charlie had done: paced the corridor three times and focused on what he needed. A door appeared and Viktor, eyebrows raised, stepped inside. 

The room was considerably less cheerful than the last time Draco had been here, a result of Draco’s needs instead of Charlie’s. Black, green, and silver furnishings filled the extravagant room and a large chandelier provided light in the center of the ceiling. 

Viktor smiled appreciatively. “It is beautiful.” He told Draco. 

Draco smiled back. “This is the Room of Requirement. If you walk the corridor three times and think of what you need, it will appear.” He glanced down at his hands. “Charlie Weasley showed it to me this afternoon. Viktor…my Sight tells me that we will need his help.” He gestured to the wide leather chairs and took a seat himself, leaning back into the deep green material. 

Viktor did the same across from him. “Quasi-Imperious, Draco? Did your father really do such a thing, and never remove the curse? The longer someone is under such a curse, the more it has potential to seriously damage their mental functions. This is very grave.” Shaking his worry away, he spoke again, a little more calmly. “To resist the Imperius curse, strong mental capability is the most important. Occlumency is the biggest help, but I assume that you have had no training in such an art. I can block to some degree, but I am not a Legilimens so I will not be able to help you much. I think that, instead, we should focus on strengthening your willpower.”

The older boy stood up and walked behind Draco’s chair, out of his line of vision. “When the time comes that you are compelled to do something, shift your thoughts immediately to all of the reasons that you need to resist the command. Think of your friends, of your allies. Remember your resolve to beat this curse and to do the right thing.” Taking a step closer and placing his hands over Draco’s shoulders from behind, he leaned in and added in a low voice, “Think of your mother, and how much she would be hurt if you continued to follow your father, even at the cost of brain damage.” 

Draco stared resolutely at his feet, taking every word to heart. Viktor moved even further into Draco’s personal space, refusing to let him avoid the real issue here. Krum sat on the arm of Draco’s chair, grabbed his chin firmly, and lifted the silver gaze to meet his own. “Draco…you know that your father did wrong? That he never should have dealt with whatever was happening in this way?” 

The young Slytherin pressed his lips together tightly, not having a response. Viktor pressed on, repeating emphatically, “What he did to you was wrong, Draco. Even if you are his son, he should never be able to force you to choose anything.” He released Draco’s face but didn’t move away. “You have to realize that in order to break his hold on you…you have to feel indignant at how unjust it was. If you combine that feeling with all the reasons to resist, you will be able to break his hold over you.” 

Draco simply sighed, knowing in his head that it was true but unable to force his heart to agree. “I will try,” was his only response in the end. 

Viktor sighed as well and nodded. “I suppose that is all I can ask of you.” He moved out of Draco’s personal space, resigned. 

“Viktor…thank you for your help.” He met Viktor’s eyes, unable to say what he truly wanted to convey. “I know you will do well tomorrow, so I won’t bother to wish you luck.” Draco smirked. 

Viktor grinned back. “I am glad for your confidence in me. I had best be going, before I am missed.” Patting Draco’s arm, he left the room and returned to his dwelling. 

Draco stood and left the Room of Requirement as well. Cautiously, he peered outside, taking care to ensure that no one was wandering the halls. Now that Viktor had left, he made sure to keep a close eye around him, just in case someone was feeling vindictive towards Slytherins today. 

Seeing no one, he stepped out and headed towards the Slytherin common room, staying alert. There was enough time left in the evening that he could approach Adrian Pucey and see what his thoughts were concerning neutrality (and, more pointedly, Draco’s brand of neutrality). 

Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Draco quickly ducked into an alcove hidden from sight. He had done so just in time, because Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas were now walking across the hall in front of Draco. 

Those two were part of Harry’s inner circle, but Draco knew that had they caught him alone, a fight would have been imminent. Draco was confident in his wand work, but the irritating thing about fighting Gryffindors was that, no matter the outcome of the fight, Draco would end up being the one blamed for any trouble. 

In the professor’s eyes (excluding Severus Snape) Slytherins were the cause of all trouble, all evil Death Eaters just like their parents. What with the Tournament going on (and Cedric’s possible future death), Draco couldn’t afford any trouble right now. So hiding it was. 

After Thomas and Finnegan passed by, Draco slipped from his hiding place and continued the rest of the distance to the Slytherin common room. To his surprise, after he quietly muttered the password and slipped past the portrait, Greg and Theo were waiting for him. 

“There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you were planning to stay out all night.” Goyle exclaimed. “Theo wanted a word.” 

Draco’s eyes shifted to Theodore Nott, an acquaintance he had known since childhood. “I am listening.” 

Theo sighed. “I just wanted to say…I am loyal to you. I don’t agree with some things my parents are confident of. However…I also truly believe that if I go against them, my father will kill me.” 

Draco pressed his lips together. Indeed, Theodore Nott Sr. was a ruthless man, and he couldn’t disagree with Theo’s words. “What would you suggest, then?” 

Stepping forward, Theo began to speak again. “I will have to take the Dark Mark. It is unavoidable, in order for me to retain my life. If you help me learn to shield my mind from the Dark Lord and offer me protection when I am discovered I will be your spy and remain loyal to you in any circumstance.” 

Draco’s mind raced. Dangerous, but there was little other option for Theo. “I agree…with one more condition. Approach Dumbledore, and offer to give him information in return for protection. Although we both know that his protection is much more limited than mine, he will see it as your only option and it will be credible. When you entered the Dark Lord’s service, pass along only the information that will assist them in bringing Voldemort down, and pass the rest only to me. If we play our cards right, both sides will be too busy squabbling with each other to notice our work right under their noses.” 

Theo whistled appreciatively at the plan. “You want me to be a triple agent? Ambitious, but I think I can pull it off with some Occlumency training. All right, I agree. I am your man.” He said a few things in Latin, which Draco recognized as an old, magically-binding vow of loyalty often used during war. 

Draco gave him a warm smile in return; happy that another old friend would be supporting him rather than his enemy, and clapped him on the shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he caught the dark figure of Severus, who gave him a come hither look. 

Eyes on Snape, Draco nodded politely to Goyle and Nott. “If you will excuse me for a few moments…” The two older boys turned, and seeing Snape quickly moved out of Draco’s way. 

The blonde Malfoy glided past them to join his godfather in the shadows. “Hello, Severus. Is there something I can help you with?” Draco kept his voice level and composed.

Snape snorted. “I think I should be the one asking you that, Draco. You seem to be slipping, and you look like death warmed over. What is going on?” 

Draco had always been a terrible liar to those who knew him well. “Severus…” he didn’t even try to come up with an excuse. 

The Slytherin Head of House’s tone softened from its normal caustic timbre. “I am your godfather, Draco. That may mean that I follow your father in some things because he is a clever man, but you must know that I am not in any way his follower, nor do I agree with everything he does.” When the young Malfoy heir said nothing in response, Snape sighed in frustration. “I suppose I must spell it out for you? Draco, you can trust me with anything you feel must be kept from your father. Whatever is making you look so haggard, clearly you are out of your depth. I may be on Dumbledore’s side for now and close friends with your parents, but you are my priority.” 

Draco was admittedly surprised. “How can I trust your word? Even my mother didn’t tell you, or believe you could be completely trusted.” He finally met Snape’s eyes, trying to read his mentor’s expression. 

Severus frowned. “I knew your mother was keeping something from me.” He took a step closer to Draco, careful to keep his body language non-threatening. “As I said before, your father is a very clever man. Do you think he would ever name me your godfather without ensuring my loyalty? He tried to bind me to him in the same ways that he tried to bind you to him…through compulsion. I broke that compulsion long ago, although he doesn’t know it. What I didn’t break away from was my responsibility to protect and help you, Draco.” 

Grey eyes regarded the Potions professor warily. “What kind of compulsion? What do you mean?” 

Severus Snape realized that this was going to become a more drawn out discussion that expected. Glancing around the common room that was rapidly becoming fuller, he beckoned Draco towards his office. “Let’s speak in my office.” He walked ahead and opened the door, allowing Draco to follow him. 

Draco had spent considerable amounts of time in this office, mostly receiving tutoring from Snape. As always, the office was gloomy and foreboding with dark colors and very little light. Draco took a seat across from Severus’s desk, waiting expectantly for the answer to his previous questions.

Sighing, Snape sat as well. “During my time at Hogwarts your mother and I became close after…various events took place leaving me quite isolated. When your father and mother began their formal engagement, I became your father’s acquaintance as well, but we were more colleagues than friends. Always, it was your mother who really had any sway with me…because she saved me, in many ways, from myself. Narcissa is my closest friend and the only one I would do anything for, and she has asked me to watch over you and be your confidant.” The Potions professor leaned forward, resting his head on folded hands. “I could offer you a loyalty vow, but I don’t think it is necessary. You can judge for yourself my sincerity. I am a spy within the Death Eater ranks for Dumbledore, but I am not loyal to his agenda, only his opposition of Voldemort. Anything that you tell me will be between you and me only, unless you intend to support Voldemort. I know you well enough to see that you are too smart for that, however.” 

With a wry smile, Severus continued, “The things that are troubling you are things that concern me, as well. I am your ally in all things, unless you are being an imbecile.”

Draco was absolutely certain that Severus was telling the truth. If there was only one thing he knew about his mentor from the Flashes, it was that his mother was literally the only person anchoring Severus to reality, the only important person in his life. All of the things Severus had spoken of were both within the Potion professor’s character and Narcissa Malfoy’s. 

Taking a deep breath, he began to speak, trusting in his instincts. “I can’t tell you everything.” Draco began with a warning. “Suffice to say it has come to my attention that things cannot continue in the same way anymore without serious consequences. Because of this information, I have been forced to make some decisions that may be harmful personally.” He was speaking vaguely, but it was safer for Severus to have as little information as possible, being around Voldemort and Dumbledore frequently (who were both strong in Legilimancy). “I must go against my father’s wishes, and form a neutral party strong enough to wield considerable influence. I have already begun to gather allies and put measures in place to resist my father. It has been…taxing, magically and mentally.”

Severus was able to read between the lines. “The curse your father placed on you must be broken. If you are able to learn, I can attempt to teach you Occlumency. Has anyone attempted to teach you before, or determine your suitability for the art?” 

Draco shook his head. “There was never a need before. I have never experienced any sort of feeling concerning intrusion on my mind…does that mean I am unable to learn?” 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “Even those who cannot learn can usually sense something small, a sense of unease or discomfort. It is strange that you have not. May I attempt to access your mind, to determine your chances of learning?” 

Draco nodded, a tight smile crossing his lips. It was hard to consent to such a thing, even from someone he trusted. Severus concentrated, muttered, “Legilimens,” and to Draco, it appeared as if nothing happened. 

Severus stopped concentrating around twenty seconds later and met Draco’s eyes. There was surprise on his face. “You are a natural Occlumens, it seems. I cannot penetrate your mind, yet you did nothing. I could not even grasp at your mind in any way; it was as if there was nothing there.”

Privately, Draco suspected it had something to do with his Seer abilities, but he did not share that with Severus. “That…is unexpected. Will such a skill help me resist the compulsion placed upon me?” 

The Head of Slytherin House dropped his hands into his lap. “It will not solve your problem, but it will help. It shows that your mind has natural fortitude and that is a good sign for resisting _Imperio_.” He met Draco’s eyes and added, “I can see that there is not much else you can tell me at this point. Just remember that, as your Head of House and as your godfather, I am your ally in all things. Do not be hesitant to ask for my help. You may return to your friend’s company now.” 

Draco stood, and gave a small bow of his head to Severus. “Thank you, Sev.” The short name had not left his lips in some time. It had been more of a childhood nickname for his godfather, so Draco was as surprised as Severus when it slipped out. However, it was not unwelcome. 

Severus’s eyes softened at what Lucius Malfoy would have called a mistake. “You are welcome, Draco. Get some rest. You look fatigued, beyond the socially acceptable norm for a student of your year. If you do not wish to draw suspicion, you must be more careful to maintain appearances.” 

Draco nodded. “Of course, Severus. I will be more careful. I will take my leave.” He exited the room carefully. Greg and Theo had already disappeared into the rooms. Glancing around the common room, only older students were present. 

The Ice Prince of Slytherin donned his mask and glided through the room, heading to his hall to get some rest as his godfather suggested.


	5. Unexpected Happenings

In the morning, Draco woke up late and feeling sluggish. His dreams had been confusing and full of blurry images, but he somehow got the sense that he had missed something important. 

Classes had been cancelled for the day due to the Triwizard Tournament’s First Task. However, the Task didn’t begin until after lunch time, so he had about two hours to burn before he would head for the Great Hall. Glancing at his roommates, he found them all to be sleeping still, with the exception of Greg, who wasn’t in the room at all. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, Draco strode to his trunk, grabbed a silken robe and some shower supplies, and prepared himself leisurely for the day. 

By the time he exited the shower, Blaise and Theo were beginning to stir. Draco greeted them with a slight smile as he replaced his belongings in the trunk, making sure to hide the charms from their view. They may be his allies, but he still couldn’t be too careful. Glancing at the mirror, he styled his hair by lifting the front section, but not slicking it back. 

Pleased for once to not wear the Hogwarts uniform, Draco dressed himself stylishly: charcoal-colored trousers, a black V-neck shirt, a dark green cashmere cardigan, and his Slytherin scarf. All of the clothes he owned fit him perfectly and were well-tailored to show his nice physique. Pulling some short, chocolate-colored boots onto his feet, he took in his appearance. He could almost pass for the typical Muggle Englishman. Snorting at the thought, he decided to forego the robe. It would ruin the cut of his clothes, anyways.

Draco left the room, deciding that Blaise and Theo seemed wouldn’t be leaving their beds anytime soon and he wasn’t willing to sit around and wait for them to get up. The Common Room was practically empty, with only a few first and second years milling about in the corners. 

There was an unspoken rule in the Slytherin House that the fireplace and sofas in the center of the common room were reserved for fifth year students and higher, with the exception of Draco and his friends, who had always used the space since their first year because of Draco’s Malfoy heir status. Draco settled there now, ignoring the greetings and pandering of the younger students. Reaching to the side table, he picked up the morning copy of the Daily Prophet, and sighed when he saw Potter plastered across the front page. 

The public’s fascination with Harry Potter was ridiculous as usual, and Rita Skeeter utilized this to her own advantage. Though the names of Viktor and Fleur were mentioned, the entire article centered around Harry Potter’s personal life, and Cedric Diggory wasn’t even mentioned. Flipping through the paper and finding nothing else of interest, Draco set it back on the table with a smirk. He took some time to prod the burn wound on his arm, checking to see if it was healing well by peeling off the bandage. Everything had scabbed over well, so he discarded the bandage and did not cover the wound with a fresh bandage. 

Rolling his sleeve back over the scab, Draco leaned back onto the couch, his white-blonde hair spilling across the black leather couch in sharp contrast. Absently, his mind wandered to plans for the Yule Ball. He planned to recommend that Viktor take Pansy (Draco owed her, after all), which meant that the Ice Prince was in need of a date that was bearable. Perhaps this was an opportunity, rather than an annoyance….he could approach Daphne Greengrass and test the waters. Daphne was a Pureblood with the temperament and intelligence that would be expected of a Malfoy’s date. Choosing Daphne would keep up appearances for his father and anyone else who happened to be watching, and could be a possible ally if she was willing to become neutral. 

He had time yet to ask her, though he had perhaps move quickly rather than wait. Daphne was very popular, both within his year and with the older students. If Draco was the most influential individual in Slytherin, than Daphne Greengrass was the most influential woman. The Greengrass family was old and traditional, so perhaps he should prepare to ask her to the ball according to Pureblood custom. 

He smiled lightly, staring into the flames. It was nice, after everything that had happened lately, to think about such ordinary things as asking a girl to the school dance. For the first time since he had been burned in the vision, Draco felt most of the tension leave his body and he languidly relaxed against the soft leather, glad for the quiet morning in which he could unwind away from his housemates. 

Folding his hands on his lap, Draco focused his mind on the coming Tournament, and the events that would take place within the next two months. He would need to arrange to meet Charlie covertly sometime while a Champion was involved in the Task in order to draw the attention elsewhere. Once they spoke, he could make sure that Charlie was at Hogwarts to stay for the remainder of the Tournament. That was the most important step, because Draco had foreseen the consequences of attempting this without the Dragon Tamer’s help. If Charlie had not been able to manage such a feat on his own, it would become Draco’s first priority to ensure that it would happen…somehow. 

Deciding to see how Viktor was faring, Draco touched the moon on his palm lightly. _Viktor…how are things looking? I know you are prepared for the First Task already, but you must be nervous. It is still very dangerous._

A soft reply came about forty seconds later. _Sorry Draco, I was training. I have a few moments now, though, to rest. Things are going well, I am not worried about my chances of success but I must admit it is nerve-wracking. I hope your plans are proceeding well, too._

_Fairly well, considering. I did have something of a favor to ask you, though. Have you asked a girl to the Yule Ball yet?_ Draco hoped that discussing such a trivial matter was okay…Viktor must be busy. 

_No, I have not even considered anyone yet. What is the favor? I am sure it is easily done._ Viktor’s voice was faint. He must be some distance away. 

_Would you take Pansy as your date? She will be good company, I promise. I owe her a favor, and this is a good way for you both to improve your status and reputation with your parents…and avoid suspicion. Plus, that way Pansy won’t have to go with me and act stupid and obsessive like people expect her to._ Draco tapped his fingers absently against his palm. 

_As I said…easily done. I will make sure to ask her publicly and creatively. Thanks for saving me the trouble of finding my own date. Anyways, I should return to my training. I will see you in the afternoon…you should stop by before the Task begins, even if it isn’t allowed. He paused, as if doing something else. I am sure you can be…discreet. Bye, Draco._ Viktor went silent. 

Draco didn’t bother replying, Viktor was clearly occupied with something else presently. Well, that was done at least. He was sure that Viktor would be a gentleman, and Pansy would have a great time being at the center of attention. It was good for them both, as Draco had no intention of being the center of attention…it was likely that he would have other things to focus on. 

Rising, Draco left the Common Room and drifted outside. This would be a good time to begin his plans to ask Daphne to the Yule Ball. Most traditional courtships began with a single flower, and while Draco did not really intend to court her, the tradition was the same for a date. 

It was traditional to begin with a yellow chrysanthemum, the flower indicating a secret admirer. After this, the suitor continued to give flowers that symbolized attraction, or the beau’s attractive qualities. Draco personally planned to follow the chrysanthemum with a jasmine flower, indicating that he appreciated Daphne’s grace and elegance. This would be followed by Baby’s Breath, which would let Daphne know of the purpose of the courtship: some special event or festivity (namely the Yule Ball). After Baby’s Breath, an iris would be his next gift, so that Daphne would realize that this invitation included a political message. Lastly, the final gift would be a green orchid. All his hopes for the alliance would be signified through that last gift, and he hoped Daphne would understand. 

Perhaps it was not a typical way to deliver a message, but it was certainly a safe one. Draco had never personally heard of such an elaborate way to communicate, but in his case it might be entirely necessary. 

Draco continued to walk, intending to go to Hogsmeade quickly to purchase a yellow chrysanthemum. However, his path was abruptly blocked and he nearly collided with a hard chest. Coming out of his thoughts, Draco glanced up at the taller person. “Charlie.” His face was blank as normal but his voice held a hint of surprise. He unknowingly took a step back, attempting to regain his personal space. 

The redheaded man smiled brightly at the younger…friend? Comrade? Leader? None of the words fit. Dragon. Now that was more suitable. “Hi Draco! I was able to arrange some vacation time to stay for the Tournament. Because Harry is a family friend, and, well…” he trailed off. Somehow his words and thoughts seemed to do that when he was pinned by Draco’s penetrating stare. “Mission one complete?” Clouds of red drifted from his lips accompanying the words. 

An unexpected chuckle escaped from Draco’s lips at the absurdity. “You are a strange one,” was all that the poised blonde said as he attempted to slip past Charlie. As always, he had to make a conscious effort not to stare at the red colors while the redhead spoke. 

The elder Weasley stepped in his path again. “That’s it? No thanks, no praise or admiration?” he teased, eyes twinkling with mischief in a way that was eerily reminiscent of the twins. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well done, you got off work. Were you expecting a prize? Sorry to say, I am afraid you will be sorely disappointed.” Meeting Charlie’s eyes, he explained, “I would love to stay and chat, really. But I have matters to attend to.” 

Charlie sighed. Hot, then cold…always a deflection with sarcasm or just blatant avoiding the comments. Well, he would just have to try a new tact. It was now his mission to help Draco lighten up, after all. “Okay, fine. I will go with you, then!” Privately he knew that, unless he spent a considerable amount of time around the young Malfoy heir, they would never truly be able to work together. Draco was too much of a closed book. 

Draco shook his head immediately, and his mien darkened. “My father…” It was all that needed to be said. 

“A glamour, then.” Charlie waved his wand in front of his own face and suddenly his hair was a nondescript brown and the freckles were gone. “Any other objections?” 

Draco resigned himself to the everlasting Weasley stubbornness, deciding that fighting the Dragon Tamer wasn’t worth a headache. Wrapping his arms around his midsection in an unconscious defensive move, he simply nodded at Charlie. 

Finally, Charlie moved out of Draco’s path and instead fell into step with the Malfoy heir. “So, what is this mysterious errand of yours?” 

Draco debated whether answering the question or holding his peace would be less troublesome. “Buying a flower.” He told Charlie dispassionately. 

The third-oldest Weasley child immediately pounced upon that. “A flower? Is it for a girl? Oh, you must be asking someone to the Yule Ball…how long have you liked her?” He probably asked more questions, but Draco tuned him out. 

“This is an alliance offer, not a confession. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Besides, I am incapable of love. Dating would therefore also be quite pointless.” Draco stated simply. Always that careful neutrality, and a lack of emotion in his expression. 

Charlie had to admit, Draco’s poker face could fool anyone…in fact, it was fooling everyone. But he knew better, because Draco had been forced to let him in. He thanked Merlin for that, because this poor kid didn’t even realize how much he had to offer. “I don’t know if I will ever agree with that statement, but I will let that one slide for now. Who is the girl?” 

Draco shrugged, apathetic about how much Charlie knew at this point. “Daphne Greengrass. I am hoping that she and her sister might be swayed to our side.” 

Charlie was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected ‘our.’ It seemed that Draco was changing little by little without realizing it. “Be romantic enough and I am sure she will.” He teased. 

Draco return his teasing with a blank stare. “These kind of jokes only work if the person is a complete fool or if the suitor is easily embarrassed. Neither applies to me so I would appreciate it if you didn’t bother to speak about pointless things.” 

Charlie held up his hands in mock defensiveness. “Okay, okay. I will drop that subject then.” Falling into a comfortable silence, he regarded Draco’s face, noticing that the lines of exhaustion and the bags under his eyes had not diminished after a night of sleep. “More dreams last night?” 

Draco frowned. He hated that someone could read him at all, even if it was such a minor thing. “Nothing I remember. Just confusing and vague impressions.” 

A small child ran across Draco’s path and Charlie instinctively grabbed the blonde’s arm to keep him from running into the child. Draco flinched at the contact, Flashes flitting across his vision. He was surprised that one memory mentioned his family in passing, and even more surprised that Mr. Weasley mentioned the Malfoy name in pity, commenting, _"It is a shame that the Malfoys no longer think so. Abraxas Malfoy would roll over in his grave if he saw the decisions Lucius is making now."_ Charlie appeared to be quite young in the memory, probably before or shortly after he began his schooling at Hogwarts. Draco could feel his curiosity, and confusion at what his parents were saying. Then the memory abruptly cut off and Draco was back wrenching his arm away from Charlie Weasley.   
Charlie pressed his lips together apologetically. “I know you don’t like being touched, but…” he gestured where the child ran away helplessly. 

Draco’s brows knitted together in displeasure. “It’s fine.” He responded curtly. Draco ran a hand through his white-blonde hair thoughtfully, contemplating the memory he had caught a glimpse of. “Do you know anything about Abraxas Malfoy?” 

Charlie blinked in surprise, taken aback at the out-of-the-blue question. “Not much. Why do you ask?” 

Not meeting the Dragon Tamer’s eyes, Draco mumbled, “The memory I saw mentioned him. Your parents were talking about my family. Your father, in particular, seemed familiar with my grandfather.”   
Charlie’s eyebrows rose. “Your grandfather? So that’s the connection. I vaguely recall overhearing that conversation and being quite curious what they were talking about.” 

Draco abruptly turned and walked towards a flower shop, and Charlie backtracked and veered after him. The redhead continued, “My dad, surprisingly, seemed to have a high opinion of Abraxas Malfoy. I also remember Dad being stressed about your grandfather’s death when I was very young. That’s about all I could tell you.” 

“My father and my grandfather hated each other. My father thought Grandfather was weak, and Grandfather thought Father’s methods too risky and often too harsh.” Draco explained as he pushed open the flower shop’s door which rang a small bell attached to the door. 

The owner of the flower shop greeted them, halting the conversation. Returning his small talk with no little exasperation, Draco quickly escaped the pleasantries and went straight to what he needed: a yellow chrysanthemum. 

Charlie leaned against a wall near the door, watching Draco with interest. “Does that specific flower have some meaning to you?” he quizzed, curious.

Draco scowled. “Pureblood courting rituals. If your parents had instructed you properly--” he cut himself off, belatedly deciding that attacking Charlie’s parents in front of him probably wasn’t the most sensitive thing to do. 

But Charlie just grinned. “There’s my favorite prat.” He teased. “Is it really so much of a tragedy that there are less rules in life? I would think you would enjoy the freedom, considering how restricting the rules in your household are.” 

Trying not to take offense at that implication, Draco finally selected a single flower that he perceived as the best offered and lifted it to further inspect it. “I resent rules that restrict personal choice, perhaps. But courting rituals are not something anyone is obligated to follow. They do, however, help greatly for those who have trouble fitting into social structures or making their feelings known...like me. Ignorance of these rules makes it very difficult for me to express myself clearly, without misunderstanding.” He shot a quick glance at Charlie, eyes burning a little bit with disappointment. “So I would be careful about what you say.” He took the flower to the counter and gave the salesman a few sickles for the flower. 

Charlie didn’t reply, unsure what to even say to that. As they exited the shop, loud noises and screams interrupted his thoughts. Charlie and Draco exchanged glances and hurried toward the noises, adrenaline filling their veins. Rounding the corner, they saw fire in the streets and Death Eaters wreaking havoc. 

People were screaming and running away, and spells were flying everywhere. Draco and Charlie ducked behind a stand full of miscellaneous items, drawing their wands. “What is going on?” Draco yelled over the noise. “They should have no reason to attack here! It would be much smarter to remain in the shadows until their attempt to revive Voldemort. This doesn’t make sense!”

Charlie had opened his mouth to respond when suddenly Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed onto the scene, wands drawn and hexes flying. “Damn it! Those stupid martyrs!” Charlie leaped out from his hiding place and went to help them. 

“Like you’re any better!” Snarling at the pigheaded Gryffindors, Draco stayed where he was and threw interfering jinxes and shield spells to keep Charlie unharmed as he left cover. He was smart enough to know that if his father caught wind of this, it would make things much, much worse. Too bad Charlie didn’t take a few seconds to consider that, he thought bitterly. 

He continued to help discretely in the ways he could, but it wasn’t enough. A cutting curse caught Ron in the chest and he went down. Luckily, at that time Aurors arrived on the scene. Charlie immediately Apparated away with Ron, and Hermione and Harry stayed to help the other injured. 

Rising from his hiding place, Draco scooped up the dropped chrysanthemum flower and checked it over. Miraculously, the flower was unmarred and looked just as it had when he purchased it. Brushing off his robes, he turned and began walking back towards Hogwarts when the shoulder of his robe was suddenly wrenched painfully backwards. 

Turning with the force, Draco stared straight into furious green eyes. Potter grabbed his collar roughly. “Sneaking away, Malfoy?” he spat, fists white. 

Draco scoffed coldly. “Did I appear to be sneaking to you? I have the right to walk the streets, just as you do.” He pried Potter’s hands off of his clothes and smoothed down his robes. In retrospect, that had been an idiotic move, because as soon as he took his eyes off Potter he received a punch in the face. 

Draco spat blood from his mouth and sent Harry flying back with his wand. “Problem, Potter?” he drawled, eyes more arctic than ice. “Swinging fists like a barbarian is beneath me. However, you seem to be of a different opinion.” 

“You were in on this, weren’t you! You’ve always hated Ron!” The-Boy-Who-Lived was beyond all reason at this point. 

Gritting his teeth at the pain in his jaw, Draco scowled. “Really, Potter, what is wrong with you? Have you lost your wits?” 

Hermione suddenly appeared on the scene, probably overhearing Harry’s hysterical shouting. “Malfoy! Stop it now!” Likely because of Draco's raised wand, she fired a rapid body bind. Draco found himself frozen, unable to move a muscle. Clearly Granger had not witnessed what was actually occurring, and Draco paid for it as Harry again punched him, this time in the gut.

“Harry!!!” With a startled yell, Granger yanked the Savior of the Wizarding World backwards and gripped his arms. “What are you doing?” Despite Potter’s actions, Draco noticed she still did not release the body bind he was currently under. 

“He was trying to get away! You know his father is a Death Eater, he must have had something to do with this. Hurting Ginny wasn’t enough, now they are after Ron!” Harry tried to pull himself free, but Hermione’s grip was strong and he didn’t want to hurt her. 

Granger gave Draco a suspicious look, but released the body bind, her wand still trained on him. “What do you have to say for yourself, Malfoy?” 

Draco scowled, composure waning. “Get this moronic nut away from me.” Turning his back on Granger, he crouched to retrieve the flower he had bought. It had been crushed and trampled on the ground. The Malfoy heir sighed in irritation and turned to go back to the flower shop, only to realize that Granger and Potter were staring at him, one in intense anger and one in annoyance. “Well?” he snapped, grey eyes sparking. 

Harry looked as if he was about to attack again, and his teeth were actually bared at Draco. Hermione hated being ignored, but she was unsure of Draco’s involvement in this whole matter. She stepped aside, pulling Harry with her, and let the youngest Malfoy pass. 

Draco didn’t look back as he sauntered away, but he knew that this wasn’t over. Potter would be back, when there wasn’t anyone around to restrain him. While he knew he could take whatever Potter might throw at him, he also was aware that no matter what happened, he would be blamed for it and that could be trouble. 

After Draco bought another flower and was on the road back to Hogwarts, Charlie met him on the road. The older Weasley’s face was an unattractive mixture of worry and disgruntlement. When he saw Draco’s bruised face and bloody lip, he frowned. “Draco, what happened to you?” Rather than the concern Draco had grown somewhat accustomed to, Charlie's tone was rather even and emotionless.   
“Potter decided to take revenge, accused me of being part of the attack.” Draco’s lips curved up in an ironic but unamused smile. “He always had a brainless streak.” 

Despite his own worries, Charlie sighed and took Draco’s face in his hands, examining the bruises with a wince. “This looks pretty bad. I know a few healing spells, is it okay if I--?” he gestured at Draco’s face. 

Wordlessly, Draco nodded as the Flashes crossed his vision, pulling himself away from the physical contact. “Really, Weasley, if you keep touching me I am going to know your whole life’s story.” He drawled, scowling. 

Charlie smiled slightly. “Sorry, habit of mine.” With a wave of his wand, he cast a healing spell which caused Draco’s blue and purple bruises to fade into yellow and green. The blood on the Malfoy’s lip disappeared, and the scab healed over. “Why didn’t you help me fight?” he asked quietly, avoiding Draco’s eyes. 

Draco frowned, confusion evident on his normally blank face. “What do you mean? I did. You would’ve gotten hit at least two or three times if I hadn’t thrown those Protego spells.” 

Charlie shook his head. “That’s not what I mean. Why didn’t you follow me? Ron wouldn’t have gotten hurt if you had helped.” He tried not to sound accusatory, but Draco could hear it in his voice.

Draco laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I can’t believe this. Are you seriously asking me that?” His hands shook slightly, and he turned away. “You know what, I don’t have to deal with this. Come find me when you’re ready to think about what you’re saying.” His throat tightened and he walked quickly away, leaving Charlie behind to his thoughts. 

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The crowds around the Hogwarts grounds for the Triwizard Tournament included more people than Draco had ever seen at the school. The chattering noise was unbelievable, and if Draco did not feel responsible for the events taking place, he would avoid the Tournament entirely. Pansy and Blaise sat on either side, chattering excitedly to the other Slytherins. 

Draco could see Charlie below with the other Dragon Tamers, scurrying about and readying things for the First Task. The dragons had not been brought out yet, so most of those who were present did not know what the Task would entail. Pansy in particular was having great fun speculating what would be happening in the next few hours, her theories wild and extreme. 

Cedric Diggory was to be the first Champion, followed by Fleur, Viktor, and finally Harry. Draco sat rigid in his seat, stressed from the day’s events and the questioning he had received from his friends after he returned from Hogsmeade. 

On the positive side of things, he had successfully delivered the flower to Daphne Greengrass, so what he had set out to do was accomplished. All it took was being attacked by Death Eaters with unknown motivations, assaulted by Harry Potter, and accused by a man who was rapidly worming through his defenses and becoming more important. He didn’t even know which one was the worst. 

All in all, his mood was rather glum despite finishing the task he had intended to. He was angry with Charlie for assuming the worst about him, but he was even more angry with himself for caring that Charlie had doubted him. His housemates picked up on his dark mood and kept their chatter amongst themselves, letting Draco stew instead of bothering him. 

A sudden cheer went up from the stands as a dragon was coaxed into the arena. Draco, who had a fascination with dragons when he was young, immediately recognized it as a Swedish Short-Snout. Silver-blue in color with sapphire blue flames spurting from its snout, the dragon swooped into the arena. 

The crowd went crazy as Cedric Diggory stepped into the arena, and Draco resisted the urge to cover his ears or cast a _Muffliato_ spell. The announcers informed the crowd that the First Task participants needed to take a golden egg from the dragon’s nest, and that points would be deducted for injuries or other eggs being smashed. 

Draco watched with relative disinterest as Cedric Transfigured a rock into a Labrador, distracting the dragon. He then proceeded to sneak to the eggs, but was burned in the process. Next was Fleur, who tried to put the Welsh Green dragon into a sort of trance. The idea was good, Draco decided, but the execution poor. Fleur’s robes were set alight as the dragon was not completely taken into the trance. Draco hoped she was okay.

Finally, Viktor’s turn came. Draco set forward, eyes trained on the Bulgarian seeker. Pansy and Blaise noticed his interest, and smiled to themselves. 

Viktor Krum was clearly the most experienced duelist and was very good at Defense. In fact, his Conjuctivitis curse was too strong, causing the Chinese Fireball dragon to go into convulsions, thus smashing some of the eggs and losing points. Draco winced to himself, knowing that Viktor would be upset at the results. 

Draco almost wanted to look away or leave when Potter came out, still incredibly miffed because of the incident earlier. He didn’t understand why Potter was so well-liked when he was so moronic and irresponsible. If he just stopped to think sometimes, perhaps he wouldn’t constantly be almost dying. Not that Draco was too concerned about that…

Rolling his eyes, Draco slumped into Blaise’s shoulder and stared into the sky, discreetly touching his palm to contact Viktor. _Sorry things didn’t go as you planned out there. To be fair, your idea took the most power. Perhaps just too much power. Don’t be disappointed, you will pass them all in points later. They don’t have your experience._

A minute passed before Viktor replied. _Thanks. I am disappointed but there is no use thinking about it. Now I need to prepare for the next Task._ There was a pause, clearly Viktor was in the middle of something. Draco expected that to be the end of the conversation, but after a long while another response came. _I heard that there was some sort of disagreement between you and Harry Potter. I assume you are fine._

Draco smiled at the compliment. _Yes, a little bruised but nothing serious. He was just being an idiot, as usual._ Although Viktor was his ally first, he was rapidly becoming a reliable friend as well. Draco couldn’t help but preen a little bit at the thought that such a famous Quidditch player and well-known person was showing concern for him. Petty, perhaps, but he had to take pleasure in whatever he could. His eyes shown with a mysterious light as he looked back down at the arena, taking in Potter’s antics on the Firebolt. 

_Charlie Weasley asked me about you. He seemed worried._ Viktor’s voice again came from the bond. 

Draco pressed his lips together. _I am a little peeved with Charlie at the time for his obliviousness, so please, let’s discuss something else._

Viktor chuckled. _Draco, you cannot expect a Gryffindor blood traitor to understand a Slytherin Pureblood overnight. He doesn’t even understand what he did wrong, you are going to have to talk to him and explain eventually._

Draco sighed. _I know, I just need some time to cool off first. Now that you have some time before the Second Task, are you able to start teaching me how to resist the Imperius curse?_

A pause. _That should be feasible. Let’s talk later, things are busy here._

_All right. Great job, Viktor._ Draco ran a hand through his hair, thinking about the conversation. 

Sensing that his mood had improved, Pansy took the chance and started up a conversation with Draco. “Look who’s back with us.” She teased, nudging him in the side with her elbow. 

Draco smirked. “Unfortunately.” He snarked back. 

Pansy chuckled. “Ponce.” Turning to face him more fully, she smiled a little shyly. “Have you heard about the Yule Ball, Draco?” 

Draco hid a smile. “Of course I have, and I know what you want to ask. No, my plan wasn’t to ask you. But don’t worry, I have returned the favor I owed you. You won’t be disappointed with your date.” 

Pansy squealed and hugged Draco tightly. Luckily, he was wearing full robes and she didn’t touch his bare arms or hands. He withdrew quickly from the hug and gave her a stern look. “I like you Pansy, but you know hugging is not exactly my preferred way of showing it.” 

“Thank you, thank you!” Pansy told him excitedly. “I can’t wait!” 

Blaise snorted. “What about me, your favorite pal? Any special surprise for me?” Draco thought for a moment that he detected a hint of bitterness in the words, but dismissed it as nonsense. Blaise was not the type to hold grudges, he was probably just messing around. 

Draco smugly tapped his lips, as if thinking deeply. “If you cannot find your own date Blaise, I will see what I can do.” 

Blaise smirked back at him. “Touche, Drake.”

“Don’t call me that.” As always, the response was prompt and automatic. Pansy and Blaise just laughed at him. 

Pansy continued the line of conversation. “So if you aren’t going with me, who are you planning to go with then, Draco?” 

Draco disinterestedly examined his nails. “Daphne Greengrass.” In a lower voice he added, “I was thinking of extending an alliance invitation.” 

Blaise chuckled. “And I am sure the fact that she is rich, gorgeous, and actually intelligent has nothing to do with it.” 

Draco folded his hands in his lap. “That helps too.” Their conversation was cut off as Harry completed his task, and after a few more minutes the scores were announced. Draco scoffed at Harry’s high score and stood, preparing to leave. Potter had barely even used any spells, and that showcased his skill: limited, with little experience. Running away from a dragon with a broom is just the kind of thing I would expect from a Gryffindor. No finesse and no style. Just running and hoping not to die. Draco’s scornful thoughts could not be voiced, however, without criticism from the Wizarding world.   
He walked down from the stands with Blaise and Pansy at his flanks, attempting to squeeze his way through the crowd as quickly as possible. Through the corner of his eye he spotted Charlie trying to catch his attention, so he sent the redhead a nod, hoping the self-sacrificing Dragon Tamer would catch his meaning of later. Casting a quick _Tempus_ spell, Draco decided to return to the dormitories and finish up his homework for the next day. 

The First Task of the Triwizard Tournament was complete, and the time to help Cedric Diggory was running out. 

Draco only hoped that he and Charlie could get over their differences and come up with a feasible plan to save the Hufflepuff Champion…before it was too late. 

-END OF PART 1-


	6. Approaching Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2
> 
> In this chapter there is a small time skip from the end of the First Task straight to the Yule Ball, but don’t worry! There is an explanation of what happened during that time also within this chapter.

The day of the Yule Ball came faster than anyone would have expected, as time passed in a blur of assignments and routines. Once or twice a week Draco meet Viktor and they worked on defeating the Imperius curse. Their friendship was getting stronger the more they got to know each other. Harry Potter continued to wait for an opportunity to strike out at Draco in what he perceived as revenge. Hermione buried herself in her studies, and Ron visited the hospital often to make sure that his injury was healing correctly, as there was dark magic contaminating the wound.

Charlie and Draco’s relationship was still rather rocky, as Ron’s injury hung over the two and Charlie’s words plagued Draco, despite his efforts to forget them. They had met the day after the First Task and apologized to each other, but it would take time for the tension to dissolve and for them to understand each other. Tentative plans were being thrown about, but nothing concrete yet. 

Fred and George had also conditionally started to help Draco, much to the Slytherin’s surprise. According to Charlie, the Dragon Tamer had always been rather close with the twins, and Draco supposed that was what convinced them rather than anything he was able to offer or do. 

Luna had also begun to pop up randomly at Draco’s favorite study spot in the library, and the two would often do homework together. Despite the disapproval of many of the Slytherins, Luna was a Pureblood and therefore it was only her personality that they could complain about. Draco was prepared to ignore the petty complains, and he found himself enjoying Luna’s company. She was a spot of brightness in his life, and she could always make him smile because of her antics. 

Draco continued his “courtship” of Daphne, sending her the flower messages every so often in order to capture her interest. From what Pansy said, she was very intrigued and impatient to find out who the mystery sender was. On the day of the Yule Ball Draco sent an invitation only, with a suggested color scheme and a time and place only. No name. He had an idea that Daphne could guess by now. 

Viktor had kept his promise and asked Pansy to the Yule Ball in the middle of the Great Hall, complete with flowers and chocolate. Actually, the two had hit it off quite well and could often be seen in the other’s company. 

Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Greg were a constant presence at Draco’s side, as they had been since First Year. Draco was glad they were all by his side despite his changing of sides, as he couldn’t imagine life without them. It was hard to see Vincent drifting away from them and befriending older Slytherins who were definite future Death Eater recruits. 

Because progress on their plan was slow, Draco had eventually stopped meeting individually with Charlie and opened up the discussion to a few others. Now, as often as possible, he would meet with a select few: Severus, Charlie, Viktor, and Pansy. He was contemplating letting the other Slytherins or Luna in on the meetings, but he wanted to keep it small so that as few people as possible would know dangerous information. Out of all the Slytherins, he felt he could trust Pansy the most and that she would be able to contribute to their discussions a considerable amount.

It was the morning of the day the Yule Ball would occur when Draco finally slipped up and Potter caught him alone. He had thought that, due to the early hour, it would be safe to slip up to the Owlery and send Daphne a flower. However, he was surprised when a stinging hex hit him from behind, and he whirled with his wand drawn to find Harry Potter, eyes practically flames of anger. 

Immediately Draco touched his hand and called out to Viktor, knowing that this could get ugly. “Potter.” He said blandly, trying to keep things calmer than the last time they had been alone. 

“Malfoy.” The sheer amount of hatred packed into that one word was pretty impressive, Draco thought with grim humor. He hadn’t thought Potter capable. “You’ve been parading around free while Ron suffers. It’s sickening, watching you pretend to be innocent. Pretending you aren’t just like your father.” 

The spark of anger that came at those words was undeniable, but Draco kept it carefully tempered. “Really, Potter, I am nowhere near as cruel and ruthless as my father.” Memories came to his mind unbidden. Draco wanted to flinch but didn’t allow himself. “Just as you are nowhere near as in control of your magic as you would like people to think.” 

The surprise stilled Potter’s wand. “What do you mean by that?” He hissed, green eyes glowing with contempt. 

“I would think it would be obvious. Or…do you not even realize you are doing it? Surprising. It is obvious that anytime that you lose control of your emotions your magic permeates the air like a cloud of power.” He gestured towards the many owl feathers levitating in the air with a smirk. “So why is it that you always seek me out as your target, whenever the world gets to be too much? If we keep meeting like this, I will begin to think I am important to you.” His voice dropped an octave, trying to keep Harry from exploding and causing damage. 

Harry’s hand that held his wand trembled, but Draco couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. He continued to speak in a quiet, almost hypnotic tone. “If you don’t take notice, your control will get even worse. Instead of levitating feathers, it will be people getting hurt whenever you get angry, or Potions exploding when Snape sneers at you, causing who knows what kind of damage to the students. Use your brain for once, Potter, and think about why you are so angry with me. There is no reasonable explanation, because the truth is that you’re just mad, and you think I am an easy target. After all, no one would believe the Slytherin troublemaker over the Gryffindor Golden Boy…right?” He stalked closer into Potter’s space, trying to get close enough to seize the wand. 

“Stay back!” Harry Potter snarled the words like a rabid animal, and Draco stopped in place, raising his eyebrows challengingly. 

“Too close to the truth for comfort?” Draco drawled, leaning against a heavy oak table and staying where he was, eyes never leaving Harry’s face. Despite the appearance of relaxation, his body was tensed and ready to spring into action. 

Instead of answering, Harry spat out, “I hate you.” The look in his eyes confirmed the truth of his words. He took a step toward Draco and continued to speak. “You have no morals, no loyalty, and no courage. You’re a coward, who will do anything your daddy tells you to. Probably enjoy every last bit of it.” Draco could see that this was escalating, and he hoped that Viktor would arrive soon. “You have tormented me and my friends since our first day in this school, and I have had enough of it.” His wand moved, and he cast a stinging hex as Draco whipped out his own wand and cast _Protego_. 

Draco blocked the first spell in time, but his sleep had been irregular and his eating habits were poor as usual, resulting in increased fatigue. He couldn’t keep up with Harry, who had been training for the Tournament almost daily. A relatively mild blasting curse caused Draco to fly back into the table he was leaning against, striking his head jarringly against the thick surface. 

Woozily, Draco tried to protect himself, but his head was bleeding profusely and his vision was fuzzy. He was able to hit Harry with a scorching hex, but the damage was mild and not enough to delay casting on Harry’s part. In quick succession he was hit with a wall of magical force and an extremely powerful stinging hex, which sent him painfully dropping to the floor. 

Potter disarmed him and threw his wand out of reach. Tapping his wand against his thigh slowly, he neared Draco and stepped on his shoulder, grinding his boot into the bony joint.

Draco clenched his teeth to keep from screaming at the pain as his shoulder was dislocated. At that moment, Viktor came rushing into the room and Harry suddenly disappeared from view. Invisibility Cloak? 

Draco could barely move he was so dizzy. He could tell that Viktor was saying something, but he couldn’t make out the words due to the pounding in his head and rapidly darkening vision. He managed to touch his own hand and send a pulse of magic through their bond. Okay. He could just make out Viktor’s relieved face before he passed out. 

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…………………………………………………………………..  
When he awoke, it was to unbelievable pain. He groaned at a slight movement and then vowed to stay still, not even trying to sit up. The bright lights were giving him a pounding headache, so he squeezed his eyes back shut and did his best to just breathe steadily. 

Someone was moving around his bedside, but he didn’t dare to try to open his eyes again. The lighting in the room dimmed and he slowly pried his eyes open to regard Greg Goyle. 

“Draco, I know you feel terrible right now and I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to wake up this soon. I sent for Madame Pomfrey as soon as you started to come around, she is bringing you some pain meds.” 

Draco blinked once to let Greg know that he was listening, but couldn’t muster up the willpower to try and reply. Pomfrey bustled into the room and she and Greg lifted Draco as gently as possible into a sitting position, causing him to bite his cheek in order to keep from yelling out in pain. A countless number of potions were shoved down his throat before he was lowered back down to the bed, and finally the blessed numb feeling began to sink in and Draco was able to find his voice. “What day is it?” he asked urgently. 

Goyle frowned at him disapprovingly. “Lucky for you, still the same day. Otherwise, you would be standing Daphne up. As it is, you probably won’t make it to the Yule Ball. It starts in about ninety minutes.” He took a seat by Draco’s bedside and continued, “It was incredibly stupid of you to go out alone, you should have woken one of us. You know we wouldn’t be upset with you.” 

Draco laughed, and it felt like sandpaper was sliding across his throat. “It was moronic of me, I admit it.” Greg handed him a glass of water, which Draco gratefully downed. “How’s my face? Will I scare Daphne if I show up like this?” He tried to smirk but the pounding in his head worsened at the attempt, so he gave up. 

“Your face looks the same as always, but you cannot be considering going to the Yule Ball, Draco. There is a reason you can barely move, and your body needs to rest and recover.” 

With a wince, Draco slowly sat up and began to test his range of motion. “If I take enough potions, it won’t matter. This is important, Greg. I put a lot of time and energy into this plan, and I need to collect the fruits of my labor, or find out if it was all worthless. I am sure I am stabilized enough if I woke up. I can rest and recover after tonight. What’s the diagnosis? Concussion?”

Goyle’s lips pinched together, and he sighed. “When you came in you had three broken ribs, a gushing head wound, a welt that looked like a whip mark across your back, a dislocated shoulder, and yes, a pretty serious concussion. Pomfrey put your shoulder back into place, repaired your ribs, and stopped your head wound from bleeding. The rest she hasn’t been able to fix yet. Your entire body is probably black and blue at this point, particularly your ribs.” 

Pomfrey scurried back into the room. “Young man, I don’t know what you were doing to get in this poor of shape, but Dumbledore will want to know just as soon as this Yule Ball business is over. You can expect a summons from him.” She checked a chart next to Draco’s bed and scowled at him over her glasses. 

Draco shook his head, and instantly regretted it as piercing pain shot through his skull. “I have to go to the Yule Ball, it is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and I don’t want to stand up my date. Please, I will be the best patient you could ask for after the ball, but in the meantime, just give me whatever potions I need to get through the night without collapsing.” 

Pomfrey protested, but Greg argued with her until she gave in. Draco quickly downed the potions and swung his legs over the side of the bed, standing unsteadily. Greg took his arm and helped him leave the infirmary. Luckily, everyone was in their own dormitories preparing for the Yule Ball except for some first and second years, so there weren’t many people to gawk at Draco as he returned to the Slytherin dormitories. 

Draco had never been so grateful for Greg’s large frame as he was now. “Thanks,” he muttered breathlessly as he leaned heavily on his friend. “I’m afraid you are going to have to help me get ready.” He muttered quietly. 

Goyle just smiled at him. “Of course I am going to help you, don’t be an idiot.” Greg didn’t say anything about what happened in the morning. Regardless, Draco knew that after the Yule Ball he would be quizzed to find out who it was. That person would be…dealt with. 

Just as they were about to enter the dormitory, Draco straightened and began to walk on his own, the pain potions kicking in enough for him to pretend nothing had happened. Heading into their room, Draco took a quick shower, making sure to get the blood out of his hair and inspect his bruises. He stepped out and pulled on well-tailored dress robes, combing his hair to hide the bruises on his temple that were caused by hitting the table so hard. 

As he stepped from the bathroom, he found his friends all waiting: Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Greg were all looking at him in concern. 

Draco smiled, trying to ease their worries. “Smart bunch we are.” And indeed they were. In that moment, they looked far older than their years. “Pansy, that dress is gorgeous on you.” She wore a shorter gown with a one-shoulder style, scarlet red in color. Her hair was curled and in a half-up twist. 

Theo handed Draco a box, which Draco recognized as his own cuff-links. With a smile, the blonde put them on. “Thanks, Theo. Anything else I am forgetting?” 

Blaise stepped forward with the flower he had selected for Daphne: amaryllis, signifying worth beyond beauty. “This might be important.” He smirked at his friend, before adding more quietly, “What happened, Draco? Who attacked you?” Blaise’s voice hardened at the second question. 

His friends’ eyes fixed on him, waiting for an answer. “We will talk about this after the Yule Ball.” Draco answered firmly, but his eyes were soft as he looked at them. He was so thankful for such loyal Slytherins by his side, and he had done nothing to deserve their trust, keeping as many secrets as he was. But more was at stake here than his guilty feelings, so he kept it to himself. “Thank you all.” He didn’t explain why he was thanking them, but they could assume whatever they wanted. 

Pansy moved to his side, smile happy and her eyes sparkling. “No, thank you, Draco. This year has been the best yet.” She gave him a gentle hug, which Draco endured for a few seconds before pulling away. 

Although he had taken potions and he could feel no pain, Draco’s whole body felt heavy and exhausted. Remembering how he had felt an hour ago, he didn’t even want to think about how he would feel tomorrow, after a night of stretching his body past its limits. For his own sake, he better turn in early this evening. Casting a quick Tempus spell, he checked the time. He was due to meet Daphne in a few minutes. 

His friends smiled at him, seeming to read his mind. “We can leave together, and I will stay with you while they meet their own dates. After you go with Daphne to the dance, I will come back here and work on your task.” Greg reassured him. 

Draco wanted to collapse on his bed, but instead he steeled himself and schooled his features into his normal haughty expression. “Great, thanks. Let’s go then.” The five of them left the room together, then split off their separate ways to go meet their dates. Greg and Draco continued to the corridor where Daphne and Draco had agreed to meet, Goyle trailing slightly behind. Daphne had not arrived yet, so the two waited a few minutes before she showed up. 

Her hair was thick and flowed down her back in a wide plait, highlighting her sharp cheekbones and striking eyes. Her dress was a deep forest green and off-the shoulder. A diamond necklace sparkled around her neck, showcasing her wealth and elegance. 

She smiled when she saw Draco. “I suspected it was you. It is gratifying to know I was correct.” 

Because it was custom, Draco took her hand and kissed it chivalrously, despite the Flashes. He resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows. He hadn’t realized how spoiled she was. “I am happy that you find this acceptable. What of my other proposal?” 

Pursing her lips, she took Draco’s arm and they began to walk towards the ball room, Goyle staying out of sight behind them. “I am afraid I will have to decline.” A sharp pang of disappointment resounded through Draco, but he didn’t reply, waiting for her to continue. “There simply isn’t enough reward for the risk, my dear. I am not in the habit of putting myself in danger unless I stand to gain something. I am sure you understand.” 

Draco dipped his head. “That is understandable. Of course I am disappointed, but we all do what we must. Regardless, I will do my best to ensure you have a lovely time tonight.” 

Daphne chuckled, and the sound was husky. “I am sure you will not have to try very hard, looking like this. We will certainly stand out from the crowd.” 

Draco sighed. Reduced to arm candy, but at least he had tried. If nothing else, at least Daphne was an excellent conversationalist and not completely self-absorbed, like some of the other Slytherin girls. “Most certainly.” He echoed, lips quirking upwards in the semblance of a smile. 

They continued arm and arm into the ball room, where many couples were already gathered. A minute or so later, the Triwizard Champions were announced and walked into the room. First was Cedric, with Cho Chang on his arm. Then Fleur came in with Theo, which was a surprise to Draco. Next was Harry with Granger, who was stunning. At last, Viktor entered the ball room with Pansy, who looked a little starry-eyed. Draco smiled in pride. They made a handsome pair. 

Viktor and Pansy joined him, and Draco introduced Daphne to Viktor. As they engaged in small talk, Draco touched his hand discreetly. Thank you for coming so quickly. Things might have been much worse if you hadn’t. 

Viktor narrowed his eyes at Draco. We will discuss this later. Recklessness is not like you…you must be more careful. Saying their farewells, Viktor swept Pansy away onto the dance floor.   
Draco and Daphne were then approached by Theo and Fleur. Draco congratulated her for her performance on the First Task, as they had not seen each other since that time, and again introduced Daphne. She looked positively smug to be around so many important people. 

Feeling a stare on his back, Draco turned to meet the guilty gaze of Harry Potter. Trying not to clench his fists, Draco looked quickly away and turned his attention back to the people around him. He and Daphne excused themselves to the dance floor, where he twirled Daphne around with evident skill. Dance lessons were included in all wealthy Pureblooded education, pre-Hogwarts of course. Daphne had always been an excellent dancer as well, so it was a pleasant diversion from his troubles. 

They didn’t dance long, as Draco wanted to take care of his body as much was possible. After dancing, he and Daphne also greeted Blaise and his date Tracey Davis. 

To Draco’s surprise, Harry Potter completely avoided him, not even glaring at him once the whole night. As Draco went to get Daphne some punch, Luna approached him with a dreamy smile. “Hello, Dragon.” She took a closer look at him and frowned. “It seems the Wrackspurts just won’t leave you alone. Would you like me to ask them to go away?” 

Draco blinked, his lips quirking up in a small, amused smile. “That would be most helpful.” He agreed. “Maybe then I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

Luna beamed at him. “Hello, Wrackspurts. Draco would like some peace and quiet, so please go away. Perhaps you could go to Harry Potter, he seems to need your help.”

Draco’s smile faded a bit at the mention of that name, but he thanked Luna anyways. “You look beautiful, by the way.” Luna wore a sparkling gold dress shaped rather like a cupcake, but she wore it well. It was sleeveless and short, and she wore golden shoes with ostriches on them. “Who did you come with?” 

Luna twirled in her dress, happy to show off. “Michael Corner asked me to go with him. Normally I would refuse to attend an event like this…there are too many Nargles. Because I wanted to talk to you, I decided to come. I am glad I could get rid of the Wrackspurts for you. Bye Dragon!” she skipped back to her date, leaving Draco shaking his head with amusement. 

Daphne smirked when he returned. “What did Loony Lovegood have to say?” 

Draco gave her a sharp look. “Luna is a friend of mine, so please use her name instead of childish insults. She was helping me with a problem.” 

Daphne’s eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t respond to his rebuke. The dance continued in a similar vein: Daphne behaving snobbishly but well within acceptable Pureblood behavior, Draco indulging her and wishing he could be asleep rather than enduring her company. 

To Draco’s relief, the night eventually came to an end and he was able to leave Daphne in the Slytherin common room. Greg was waiting in the dormitory. He frowned at Draco’s pale face. “The pain potions are wearing off, aren’t they?” At Draco’s wordless nod, Goyle came alongside him and supported him. “Let’s get you back to the infirmary. Sleep for a few days and don’t worry, I will take care of everything. I’ll even get the others to bring you your homework.” 

Draco just nodded again tiredly and let Greg help him back to the Hospital Wing. Once there, he collapsed onto the bed and fell into an exhausted sleep. 

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When he next awoke, no one was nearby his bed. He cast a wandless _Tempus_ charm and found it to be one in the afternoon. Most likely Madame Pomfrey was having a lunch break, and his friends were in class. 

He tried to sit up and immediately regretted it. Unbelievable pain shot through his head and abdomen, so he quickly relaxed his body and stopped trying to move, focusing on his breathing just like the day before. 

Draco didn’t know how long he sat there before a person finally came in. It could have been minutes, or hours. The pain distorted his perception of time, and it had felt like days.   
It was Pomfrey who had come in. She looked surprised to see him awake. “Mr. Malfoy, I expected you to sleep for at least several more hours. I am sorry you had to wake up in such pain.” She bustled around, shoving potions into his hands and lifted him bodily into a sitting position. Draco was surprised at her strength. 

He downed the potions, wincing at the pull in his ribs and the pain in his shoulder. 

Pomfrey watched him, an unreadable expression on her face. “I will let Dumbledore know you are awake; he would like to speak with you.” She disappeared before he could protest. 

With a heavy sigh, Draco settled back against the bed’s headboard, unable to escape this conversation. While he was certainly the type to assign blame when due, for some reason Draco knew Potter was hanging over a precipice of sorts, and it was entirely possible Draco might be the one to push him over it, and he didn’t want that. 

To lie, or not to lie. The worst possible outcome would be catching Dumbledore’s attention in some way, which was most likely to happen if he didn’t tattle. However, if he told Dumbledore what was going on, Harry might be destabilized, which was hazardous with Death Eaters running amok. It really depended on one simple factor: did Dumbledore care for Harry Potter’s well-being? Or was Harry simply his tool to defeat Voldemort? 

Draco couldn’t say for certain, one way or another. Dumbledore’s actions could lead to both conclusions. Therefore, he had to give his best guess, and take some sort of risk. 

In this situation, he knew self-preservation was more important. He was a Slytherin, after all. The consequences of piquing Dumbledore’s interest and subsequently alerting his father to Draco’s changing loyalties was a risk that Draco was completely unwilling to take. Not to mention, in no way did he want Dumbledore meddling in his business. 

Thus, Potter would have to take care of his own problems, Draco decided. The Golden Boy was the one behaving irrationally and irresponsibly anyways, so he would have to suffer the consequences.   
Glad to have made up his mind, Draco released the tension in his body and sunk lethargically back even further into the bed. There were three days left until the Second Task, and there was still very little progress on their last plan. It was Draco’s hope that, after the Second Task was over, some kind of information about the final task would be leaked, and they would be able to contrive a better plan.   
An information leak couldn’t be counted upon, though…they needed to prepare a contingency plan. Since it was likely he would be holed up in this room for at least two more days, he would have to learn Madame Pomfrey’s schedule in order to arrange a meeting when she was away. Perhaps the day before the Second Task, they could discover a time. 

Draco heard murmuring voices approaching the Hospital Wing, and deduced that Dumbledore had arrived to question him. Sure enough, a moment or two later, the Headmaster of Hogwarts stepped inside, eyes twinkling in that maddening way of his. 

“Hello, Draco. I heard that there has been some trouble. Because of the events yesterday, I was unable to come by and sort this out. Would you like to tell me about it now?” Dumbledore hovered over Draco’s bed, not taking a seat. 

Draco supposed this was some sort of power-play, trying to make him feel intimidated by looming over him. It was ineffectual. “And what, exactly, do you want to know?” Draco’s voice came out haughty, and he smirked just as a Malfoy would be expected to. “Do you want to know how Potter cornered me in the Owlery when I was alone and half asleep, how he hexed me into unconsciousness? Or were you wanting to hear about how he has been following me around for weeks in an attempt to attack me, and you did nothing? I am really quite curious to know what it is that you’re interested in hearing.” Inwardly, Draco chuckled at the level of snootiness he had just delivered in those statements. How would the esteemed Headmaster respond to that? 

Dumbledore’s face turned grave. “So it is your claim that Harry Potter was the cause of your current state of injury?” 

Draco snorted proudly. “It is not my claim; it is the truth. All you would need to do to verify that is to check Potter’s wand. Although, being such a Gryffindor and all, he will probably confess it all if you ask him.” 

Dumbledore’s expression seemed mildly irritated, indicating his clear bias for Harry over Draco. “And Harry was not hurt…at all? Considering your past altercations, I find this difficult to believe.” 

Draco sneered. “Surprised that I finally wised up? You see, I noticed a trend…anytime Potter and I fought, I was the one punished and blamed for everything. It got tiresome, so I decided to ignore Potter. Too bad he was too obsessed with me to do the same.” A sharp pain surged through Draco’s head and he did his best to keep his face straight. Stress and arguing clearly wasn’t good for concussions…If Dumbledore didn’t leave soon, he would have to get Madame Pomfrey to chase him out. 

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I see, I see. Well, I will have to speak with Harry and get his version of events.” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco leaned back against the bed again. “You do that. I will inform my father of these happenings, and I assure you, he will not be pleased with how poor the discipline is at this school.” He made sure to keep his tone bored, disrespectful, and aristocratic. 

Dumbledore’s face twitched but surprisingly he did not snap at Draco. Instead, he said simply, “I hope that your healing goes well. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy.” 

After he left, Draco snickered to himself. From Draco to Mr. Malfoy. Well, it seemed his poncy act had gotten on the Headmaster’s nerves. 

About twenty minutes later, hurried footsteps sounded outside and Draco glanced up in curiosity. To his complete and utter surprise, Charlie Weasley stood in front of him, face pinched in worry. “I heard from Ron and his friends that you were here. What the hell happened, Draco? You look awful.”

A sardonic smile stretched across Draco’s lips. “Thanks, Charlie. Always good to hear that sort of thing when laid up in the infirmary.” He didn’t answer the question, but instead looked at Charlie, eyes a little hooded from exhaustion. “Why are you here?” he asked. 

Charlie’s mouth thinned into a line. “I was worried, it sounded quite serious. And it must have been, judging by how exhausted you seem. But don’t think that will get you out of answering my question. What happened? How are you feeling?” 

Closing his eyes, Draco signed in resignation. “If I tell you what happened, I have a feeling that this will lead a similar direction to the Hogsmeade attack. You defending your family’s acquaintances and me trying to keep myself alive, which it seems I am doing quite poorly at.” He folded his arms over his stomach. “If it’s all the same to you, I would rather go to sleep than argue with you right now. As for how I’m feeling…well, I’m used to it.” 

Charlie moved to sit on Draco’s bed, unable to stop a fond smile from crossing his face. Cheeky brat. “I have no intention of arguing with you, as I already know that it was Harry who fought with you. I just want to know the cause of the fight.” He didn’t comment on Draco’s second answer. It was just so sad to hear Draco say something like that, something that implied he was hurt so many times that he just became used to it. 

Draco’s expression cleared a little. “That makes things easier. I can honestly say I am not sure what Potter was on about. His magic has been very volatile as of late. He’s been following me for weeks, my friends even noticed. I guess he really just hates me, to the point of obsessively trailing after me for weeks. Pick your poison, because your guess is as bloody good as mine.” He rubbed his temples, trying to ease the pounding headache caused by Dumbledore’s questioning and not got more worked up. “Really, Charlie, I am glad to see you, but this is not the time. My head is pounding so hard it feels as if my skull might crack into pieces." 

Charlie sighed, a sympathetic look in his bright eyes. “Come here and lie your head down.” He patted his own legs invitingly. 

Draco eyed him skeptically. “Getting Flashes is probably not the best thing for my head right now.” He commented, guessing where Charlie was going with this. 

“Then I’ll wear gloves. Seriously, come here. This will really help, I promise.” Charlie again indicated that Draco should lie down, and then Transfigured a handkerchief in his pocket into gloves and pulled them on. 

With a wary look, Draco slowly complied and rested his head on Charlie’s thighs. The older Dragon Tamer began to lightly massage his scalp, taking care to be very gentle and to avoid the heavily bruised areas. “I am sorry again for all the things that I hinted before, Draco. I was just really upset about Ron and I took it out on you. I know you have to be careful, for the sake of your friends and allies. You did all that you could considering the circumstances. I know I’ve apologized once, but I really mean it and I want things between us to go back to normal, not this tense feeling.” 

Draco’s grey eyes met Charlie’s gaze, and there was something eerie and otherworldly in their depths. “I understand.” His voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear. “We are running out of time, Charlie. If we don't figure out our next move soon, Cedric Diggory is going to die.” Finality rang through his voice. “It is not my place to let disagreements interfere with that goal, but you need to make up your mind. Are you are willing to put aside everything else for this? You still haven’t grasped the gravity of what I am asking you for. Anything that your family does or goes through is no longer of consequence to you. Dumbledore’s rules or opinions have no place in our goals. You have to put aside all that you once were in order for this to be successful."

The words baffled Charlie, and the confusion was written all over his face. “Draco, what are you talking about? Have you Seen something else?” 

A wince reverberated through Draco’s body when Charlie’s hands kneaded a bit too hard, awakening waves of pain that caused him to clench his teeth for a few moments. “What I am trying to say is that you have to focus on the objective, to the exclusion of all else. Don’t worry about collateral damage, don’t worry about your family, don’t worry about me. Once we have agreed on a plan, you have to see it through no matter what happens.” 

Charlie’s brows knitted in concern. “That sounds an awful lot like you are preparing to do something stupid.”

Draco smiled, but it held no happiness and was soulless. “I am. And it was your suggestion.” Lowering his aching head into his hands, Draco sighed deeply, exhaustion seeping through every pore of his body. “I can’t see any other way. I am going to have to do it…I am going to have to renounce our blood feud publicly. I have to make myself a target, in order to do a sleight of hand. Otherwise it will be to obvious.” His mind was racing, shocked at the conclusions he had just come to. This would be very, very painful and tortuous. But it just might work. 

“Sleight of hand? Draco, please tell me what you’re talking about.” Charlie shook his head. 

“Just what I said. We have to provide…a distraction, so that our other actions will go unnoticed. We have to make people think we are…doing one thing, when really we are doing another.” His voice trailed off once or twice in tiredness. “The only way this will be successful is if we manipulate them…into thinking what we want. Otherwise, we are screwed.” The pain was lessening now, maybe Charlie was right about a massage making him feel better. His eyes were getting more and more droopy. Maybe he would just sleep for a few minutes….

Charlie sighed, and leaned forward, easing Draco’s head off of his legs and onto the pillow. It lingered there for a moment, brushing the younger boy’s hair back from his forehead, before he turned and left the hospital wing. Pausing at the door, he whispered solemnly, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Draco. Because I am not sure how many more times you can pick of the pieces. Eventually there will be nothing left of yourself to put back together.” 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

When Draco awoke, Charlie was no longer there. Instead, to his surprise, there were two other Weasleys: the twins, Fred and George. 

They brightened, seeing him awake. “Good, you’re awake-” said Fred, while George finished the sentence, “We were starting to get bored.” 

Draco smirked at them. In the beginning, it had been a frightful challenge to tell the two identical twins apart. Over time, though, he came to notice the differences that were definitely present. “I am glad I woke up, then. You two and boredom do not mix well.” 

With a chortle, the two both stood. “Our orders were to hang around until you woke-” Again with the finishing each other’s sentences, “Up, so now that you are awake your Slytherin minions can come in.”

Draco scoffed. “Big brother’s orders?” he asked knowingly. 

“Precisely!” The answered in unison, before leaving the room with a wave. 

Draco rolled his eyes at Charlie’s mother-hen ways. As the twins left, Blaise came inside to sit by Draco’s bed. “Here’s all your homework. Enjoy.” The dark-skinned boy smirked at him. 

Draco grumbled, nearly buried by load of books and papers Blaise had shoved into his lap. “I should have expected this, especially from McGonagall. Thanks, mate. Wouldn’t do to get behind.” Looking up from the pile of work in front of him, Draco questioned, “How are things? You seem a little down lately.” 

“Just tired. I didn’t realize before how much control you exert over the Slytherins. Being your second is a pain.” Blaise gave him a faint smile. 

Draco chuckled. “It helps that my father is far more intimidating, politically, than your mother. It’s not as if it was all me. Anyways, thank you Blaise, really. I couldn’t do all of this without you.” 

An unhappy expression crossed Blaise’s face for a moment before he smiled brightly and clasped Draco’s hand. “Anything for my best mate.” He laughed. “I will let you get on that homework now. It will take a while. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.” 

Draco nodded and waved him off, turning his attention to the stack of homework.

Quite a few hours later (as he had to take frequent breaks because of the concussion), everything was done. He was just about to try and stand up to find some food when footsteps halted his movements. He glanced up, expecting to see another of his friends. Instead, he was very surprised to see Cedric Diggory. 

Cedric spoke first. “I heard that you were laid up in here and I wanted to stop by. Actually, Harry kind of sent me. He…wanted to make sure you were all right.” He shifted awkwardly in place, waiting for Draco to respond. 

It was hard to look Cedric in the face, having seen him die and all. So Draco avoided his eyes, and stared at his hands, which were clenched in the bed sheets. “You can tell Potter that I’m fine, and that he should just leave me alone like I’ve been asking all along. I was at the Yule Ball, wasn’t I? In a day or two I’ll be released. If that was all, then you can be going now.” His Ice Prince mask was firmly in place as he stared at Cedric coldly, face unreadable. 

Cedric hesitated. “That…wasn’t really all.” He seemed intimidated by Draco’s distance, but got the courage to continue. “I am worried about Harry. I don’t know him all that well, but his fight with Ron is really taking its toll and ever since you and he fought, things have gotten worse. He is depressed, moody, and barely talks to anyone. Hermione is trying but…he just isn’t himself.”

Draco clenched his teeth. “If it is all the same to you, I would rather not talk about the bloke who just put me in the infirmary, thanks. Harry Potter has hundreds of people who would love to meet his every need, to pamper him and tell him anything he wants to hear. Why are you even telling me this?” 

Cedric stepped forwards, approaching Draco’s bed meekly. “I-…I’m not sure exactly. All I know is that you are the one person I know of who doesn’t treat Harry differently because of who he is, or because you’re his friend and you feel like you have to protect him. I think you are one of the few people who Harry respects, even though he thinks he hates you because you challenge him and make him question things. He could really use someone like you to talk to him.” 

Draco’s eyes were blown wide with indignation. “Are you messing about with me, Diggory? Is this some sort of joke? Potter’s blown his top and this is in no way my responsibility to deal with. In fact, I am quite knackered of even hearing Potter’s name! And you are asking me to help him? Help the Golden Boy, who tried to kill me just a few days ago? Are you mad?” 

Cedric chuckled nervously. “I…I suppose it is a little crazy. Forget it, I was out of line. Just…let me know if you change your mind.” He left without a backwards glance. 

Draco dropped his head into his hands and rubbed his temples, feeling as if he would have a permanent headache from all the stress piling on top of him. He wished his mother…no, that was stupid, don’t even go there. In a few weeks he would be excommunicated at best, disowned at worst. His mother could no longer be a part of his life, not if he wished to follow what his logic and magic was telling him. And when had he ever done something that stupid? He wasn’t about to start now. 

He better enjoy life while he could. In a few weeks, he would have no family, no money, and no protection. And he couldn’t even complain, because it was completely, one hundred percent his own choice. 

Draco smiled mirthlessly. He better heal up…after all, he had a legacy to destroy.


	7. Peace and War

_The trouble with planning your own destruction is that it really sucks out the motivation to do it well._ Draco tapped his quill against his Transfiguration homework absently. 

It had been two days since he had spoken to Charlie and two days since Cedric had made his mysterious request. Draco’s bruises were mostly healed, with the aid of Pomfrey’s potions and salves, and that morning he had been released from the hospital wing. 

Yesterday, he had called up his ‘advisory council’ (for lack of a better name) and had discussed his plans in vague details. Not enough for it to be dangerous, but enough so they at least knew the general direction this was going. Pansy had agreed to be his eyes and ears so they would know what was going on at all times. Viktor was in the Tournament, and therefore his job was to pay attention to the participants and those involved in the Tasks. Snape, meanwhile, had become quite concerned about Draco. Not only was Draco’s health in poor condition, but he almost seemed to sense Draco had a plan that would end up with the Malfoy boy damaged in some way again. 

With a sigh, Draco dropped his quill and rubbed his temples, wishing his headache would go away. Giving up on the homework for now, he tossed it back in his trunk and locked everything up. 

Severus was certainly determined to stick to Draco like glue in order to protect him, and while Draco found the trait somewhat endearing and…nice, it was also dangerous. He now knew he could trust Snape, but Draco had been keeping secrets all his life and habits were hard to break. 

Worst of all, he knew Severus would try and stop him. In fact, any of his friends would likely try to stop him if they knew his crazy plan, but it was a crazy plan that had a high chance of success. Rubbing his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot, Draco leaned back on his bed exhaustedly. 

His dreams had made for a restless night, and his body was feeling the lack of sleep. Every time he woke up lately he had the sense he was forgetting something important; something was lurking in his dreams every night but disappeared by morning. It was unsettling, and was also driving Draco half-mad. 

He glanced around and saw Blaise was hanging around in the dormitory as well. Draco knew he had to do something to get his mind off the uneasy feeling. Sauntering over to Blaise, he remarked, “Do you have a few minutes, Blaise? I need to go find Charlie and set up a meeting. I don’t like to bother you but considering recent events I suppose it is best I don’t wander about alone.” 

Blaise shoved his homework away with a grin. “I was just looking for an excuse to procrastinate. Let’s go! Any idea where Dragon Boy is?”

“I can’t help but find that name highly amusing, considering Charlie is significantly older than both of us.” Stepping from the dorm, Blaise at his heels, Draco continued, “Lately he has been hanging around the Weasley horde, so I suppose we will sadly have to check there first.” 

Blaise’s brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t that be rather foolish? A Malfoy, looking for a Weasley in public?” 

Draco sighed tiredly, rubbing his forehead. “In a day or two it won’t matter, anyway. This will start rumors, but confirm nothing. It won’t be any trouble.” 

Blaise’s eyes widened. “Wait, does that mean…you are going public with your loyalties? Draco, that’s insane! We don’t have enough support, not to mention your father will blow his top!” In a lower, more serious tone that belayed his concern, Blaise added, “You know this is likely to result in disownment, Draco.” 

Draco kept up a brisk pace, not meeting Blaise’s eyes. “I’m aware, but this is the only option that has a good chance of working. My father can’t do too much while I am at Hogwarts, so it is better that it happens now than accidentally when I am in the Manor.” 

“Can’t do much, he says.” Blaise mocked. “Draco, don’t you remember what happened the summer you got your Hogwarts letter? Your father certainly can get to you here; after all he was able to—” 

“Blaise!” Draco barked sharply, lips pressed together tensely. His face was white. “Enough. This is something I have to do, there is no other option.” They had stopped, and Draco turned to face the boy who had been his friend for as long as he could remember. “I’m sorry, Blaise. I’m sorry you have to watch this again, after I promised that you wouldn’t. I’ve never been all that great at keeping my promises.” His voice trembled. 

Blaise’s face was concerned and angry at the same time. “Draco…” he breathed, looking miserable. “Please, you can’t do this to yourself. Let’s talk about this, everyone together. We can find another way!”

The Italian boy took in Draco’s pale and exhausted face and privately thought that Draco looked older than he had yesterday, and infinitely more haggard. Blaise stepped closer to Draco and grabbed his sleeves gently, tugging them in entreaty. His voice dropped, and he spoke very lowly and quietly, “Henry wouldn’t want this.” 

Draco froze, his heart seizing in his chest. Stone-colored eyes went wide for a split second with a hurricane of emotions before Draco rapidly attempted to recover his composure but was largely unsuccessful. The blonde Malfoy heir shook his head firmly, as if trying to shake the thoughts from his head. “I’m sorry, Blaise. I’m so sorry.” The other boy’s hands dug into his arms, but Draco didn’t wince or complain, just simply met Blaise’s eyes steadily, ignoring the green clouds from Blaise’s Voice drifting through the air. He felt like crying, but it was impossible for him. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, and he felt sick to his stomach, as if he had just gone on a roller coaster ride. After a moment than felt like years, he looked away from Blaise, no longer able to meet his eyes. His stomach churned with self-disgust. 

“Damn you for always playing the martyr, Draco Malfoy!” Blaise hissed quietly. 

“He’s my father, Blaise. What else am I supposed to do?” Draco’s voice resembled a sob, but without tears it was an ugly sound. 

With a heavy sigh, Blaise pulled Draco into a comforting hug, careful not to touch his skin. “I know, and I’m sorry. I just wish things weren’t this way! I wish I didn’t have to watch you do this again and be helpless to stop you. It nearly destroyed you last time.” He firmed his tone and stepped back, looking Draco directly in the eyes with a stern glare. “You better not try to hide this from your friends, Draco. I won’t allow it. Let us help you this time, otherwise, I don’t know if I can do this once all over again. If I can’t stop you, at least let me help you through the aftermath.” 

With a shuddering sigh, Draco nodded. “Okay.” He whispered. “Now let’s find Charlie, before I am too distraught to talk.” He turned and began to walk, without giving Blaise a chance to respond.

It had been years since he had heard that name, and to hear Blaise say it so suddenly had stunned him and cut him to the core. In order to suppress the emotions and memories the name invoked, Draco focused on the task at hand, walking more quickly towards the Gryffindor Tower. He hoped someone was feeling reasonable today and would fetch Charlie for him. 

Blaise watched his friend closely, unsure if bringing up Henry was the right move. Storm clouds danced in Draco’s eyes, shades of grey varying in hue. Draco’s eyes became like this when he thought of conflicting parts of his life and struggled with which side to choose. Blaise was seeing this side of his friend more and more frequently as of late. It seemed to him like the world was determined to crush Draco beneath a hefty weight of fear, stress, and grief. The signs of it were showing themselves on his face, and Blaise couldn’t remember the last time Draco had looked so unhealthy. 

As they neared the Tower, Blaise stepped forward, blocking Draco from the Fat Lady’s portrait. “Just be cautious for now and let me ask for him. My mother won’t care who I associate with. Put on a notice-me-not charm.”

Draco, feeling guilty, did as Blaise suggested and stepped back meekly. “Okay.” He agreed, voice a little hoarse. 

Blaise walked up to the Fat Lady’s portrait and smiled brightly. “Good day, madam. I would like to speak with Charlie Weasley if he is inside.” Some people knocked on portraits, but most Slytherins found it easier to flatter the portraits than anger them. Certainly it was much faster. 

The Fat Lady, pleased at Blaise’s good manners, opened and allowed Blaise to step just inside. He did so, while Draco waited in the hallway. 

Neville Longbottom was the first person he caught sight of. “Hello, Longbottom. Is Charlie Weasley here? I would like to speak with him.” 

Neville eyed him suspiciously. “What about?” he questioned. 

“Dragon Taming. I am quite interested in the field.” Blaise lied smoothly. 

Neville looked at Blaise and seemingly decided that he wasn’t fibbing. Perhaps he thought the somewhat showy profession suited Blaise. “I will go find him. Wait here.” Two or three of Neville’s companions, whose names Blaise didn’t know, watched him as if he were planning to set fire to the room. 

Rolling his eyes, Blaise plopped into a nearby sofa and waited. It was good that Draco hadn’t come inside, as he would have most likely been hexed or screamed at. And, considering the blonde heir’s current shaky state, that would not go over well. 

Several moments later Charlie emerged from the dormitories, blinking in surprised curiosity when he spotted Blaise. “Thanks, Neville. I will go chat with him outside, wouldn’t want to disturb you all.” Blaise rose and followed the redhead out, feeling a bit awkward. This was the first time he had ever really interacted with the older Dragon Tamer. 

As soon as the portrait closed behind them, Draco dispelled the concealing charm and stepped towards them. “Well?” 

Charlie jumped, startled by Draco’s sudden appearance. “You are far too good at those charms, Draco! You nearly scared the life out of me.” He muttered something under his breath, which Draco couldn’t hear but Blaise caught, “Just like your namesake, Merlin’s beard!” Blaise smirked. 

With a helpless shrug (he hadn’t intended to frighten Charlie, after all…) Draco spoke. “I came here to schedule the interview, with the Prophet. When is a good time?” 

Blinking in shock, Charlie took a while to catch up. “Whoa, wait? This soon? Are you sure about this, Draco? It’s very dangerous for you, right?” 

Blaise snorted. “Don’t you think I already tried to tell him that? I did everything short of threatening him, his mind is made up. Stubborn bastard.” Blaise kicked at the floor in frustration. 

Charlie’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, of course you did. I guess we haven’t officially met, Blaise. I’m Charlie Weasley. It’s a pleasure.” He held out his large hand which was covered in calluses and scars.   
Blaise shook it firmly. “Blaise Zabini. Charmed. Now let’s get back to this idiot.” 

Draco sighed. Blaise was like him in that the Italian boy behaved differently around people he was close to than he did with strangers. He was coming off a bit hostile since he was uncomfortable with Charlie. “So? Is tomorrow okay?” he prompted Charlie, trying to get back on topic. 

Charlie pondered it for a few moments. “That should be okay, I didn’t make any plans that can’t be rearranged. In the afternoon, perhaps? After the Second Task ends.” 

Draco nodded once. “It definitely won’t be Rita Skeeter, but some other reporter. I’m afraid after that we will have to be seen together a few times, to authenticate the story. It might be dangerous.” He met Charlie’s eyes steadily, and the redhead nodded back. 

Blaise chuckled, but the sound was mocking and not amused. “Might? There is no doubt about it. It will be dangerous.” He kept his eyes on Draco, making sure that he wouldn’t falter. He could still see the shadows of their last conversation lurking in Draco’s eyes. 

Charlie seemed to have noticed something was amiss, too. “Draco, is everything okay? It seems as if every time I see you, you look a little less healthy. Have you been eating and drinking enough? You did just get out of the hospital wing.” 

Draco waved off his concerns, not really acknowledging them. “I will do what I need to. Things will be better when all of this is over.” 

Blaise snorted in disbelief. “I highly doubt that!” he muttered too low for Charlie to hear. Draco shot him a look, and he sighed. “I will take care of him, you just do your part, Weasley.” Taking a step back, he told Charlie, “Bring him safely back to the Slytherins when you two finish making plans, and don’t you dare let him go alone.” Turning to Draco with narrowed eyes, he added, “As soon as you finish, come straight back. I need to discuss something else with you.” Spinning on his heel, he strode powerfully away, robes billowing behind him like Snape. 

Charlie shook his head amusedly. “Do all Slytherins know how to do that?” He asked, somewhat rhetorically. Focusing his gaze on Draco, he continued, “He doesn’t seem to like me much.” 

Draco sighed. “Blaise takes time to warm up to new people, even more so than me. He hardly knows anything about you to dislike; he is just being cautious so he doesn’t rely on you and get flaked on.” 

His eyes focused on something intangible, the grey color hazy and thoughtful. “He has burned too many times not to be careful. Most of us have.” 

Pressing his lips together, Charlie sighed. “Sometimes, I wish I could take a peek into a Pureblooded heir’s childhood. Then I remember the things you’ve told me, and I realize how privileged I was, even if my parents didn’t have much money.” 

Draco flinched a little, unable to deny the Dragon Tamer’s words but still finding them painful. “Yes, well, it is what it is.” His voice came out terse, so he changed the subject. “We need to discuss interview topics, and what things to avoid answering.” 

Charlie nodded. “You’re right, but let’s go to a safer place to talk first. Put that Notice-Me-Not charm back on; no use inviting trouble before we have to.” 

A bit annoyed at being ordered about, Draco did as Charlie asked but gave him a mutinous look first. He began speaking softly, just loud enough for Charlie to hear. “You know, while I was in the infirmary I did some research on dark magic. One of the books you gave me had quite the insight on the origin of magic. Did you know that all magic was once what we now considered dark magic? Over time, wizards learned to control the chaotic forces of we now call dark magic and named it light magic, or domesticated magic. That is what most of our spell-work focuses on now. In those days, dark magic was not called by that name, but was called wild magic. Wild magic energy took a lot of skill and years of study to manipulate or touch at all, let alone control.” 

Draco paused, collecting his thoughts. “The reason there are less wizards and witches being born now is because the domesticated magic supply is running out. Since wizards are no longer legally able to manipulate and change wild magic to domestic magic, we are losing magical power rapidly. Even more, few wizards even have the talent and skill in magic to change one form to the other. If we don’t change this rapidly, there will be little chance to save our society until another great wizard like Merlin comes along and learns magic intuitively.” 

Charlie took all of this in, wide-eyed. “That seems to be scarily accurate with what is going on, actually. But what about Harry, Dumbledore, and Voldemort? They are or were very powerful wizards. Could they have changed wild magic into domestic magic?” 

Draco shrugged. “I am not sure. Voldemort certainly seemed to have no interest in it before his fall. I would say he was more concerned with the power of chaos magic than using any light magic at all. Dumbledore is of the opinion that wild magic is evil and can only be used to harm people, and from his actions he is completely oblivious to the problem of magical extinction. His influence over Harry has caused the same ignorance.” He cleared his throat, still feeling his voice was a little hoarse. “I also had a lot of time to think, and an important question occurred to me concerning my father.” 

Charlie immediately stopped walking and turned to face Draco, sensing instinctively that this was important. “What is it?” 

Draco tapped his fingers against his forearms absently. “It was always strange to me that my father joined Voldemort’s faction. Malfoy philosophy for hundreds of years has always been to look out for the best interests of the family first and foremost. However, Father seemed completely devoted to Voldemort, even to the point of endangering our family. I never thought to question why until now. My father isn’t an idiot. He is ruthless and cunning, but above everything else he doesn’t do something risky if there isn’t a reward in it for him. That doesn’t seem to have happened yet, so it would make sense for him to turn away from Voldemort. Yet, his ideals are seemingly still in line with Voldemort’s.” He looked up, calculating grey gaze meeting Charlie’s interested blue gaze. “The only reason he would continue along this line is if there is something Voldemort has that he wants. This is something that is dangerous to him if left alone, because otherwise he would have given up already. Something so huge that the risk of being soul-sucked by a Dementor pales in comparison.”

Charlie’s eyebrows had shot up as he considered Draco’s words. “I think you’re right. Lucius always struck me as a businessman, not a criminal.” He quirked a smile at Draco. “I always had buried a bit of admiration for him. He isn’t evil, but he is solely focused on power. There is a certain class about him, whether people acknowledge it or not.” 

Draco’s eyes shone in thanks at the kindness, but he didn’t acknowledge it with words. “I am glad you agree. It is important that we find out what this is, because if it is dangerous to my father it might be even more dangerous to me.” He began to walk forward, and Charlie trailed after him. Both of them were deep in thought. 

Draco tried to keep his mind off of the conversation he had previously with Blaise, but it was really difficult. His composure held in front of Charlie, but someone who knew him better could see clearly that he was spooked. His arms were clutched tightly to his abdomen as he walked and tension marred his brow. Grey eyes darted about uneasily, and there was a palpable air of distance about him as he attempted to rebury something he had suppressed four years ago. 

Charlie was not completely oblivious, and he could tell something was wrong. However, Draco had avoided his questions so he stayed silent, observing instead of confronting. He believed Blaise when the Italian boy had remarked that he would take care of Draco if Charlie took care of business. The two Slytherins were practically brothers, and alike in many ways that Charlie would never understand, particularly their lack of trust for others.

They reached the Room of Requirement and stepped inside after pacing the corridor a few times. Charlie looked around in surprise at the room, unsure if it reflected Draco’s mental state or not.   
The room was almost entirely grey other than the two black leather couches in the center. Misty fog swirled around, shadowing the sides of the room and crowning the corners in darkness. It was a bit eerie and the sounds of whispers reached Charlie’s ears as the mist moved. 

Draco moved to the center of the room, and glanced over his shoulder to see Charlie hesitating in the doorway. “I discovered this early in the morning today. I called it the Room of Whispered Secrets.” At Charlie’s frown, he continued, “I am sure that all of the Rooms are created by wild magic. Domestic magic doesn’t have the power to change reality like this, even in a limited space. This Room isn’t any more dangerous than other Rooms.” 

Charlie finally stepped inside. “Why did you name the room as such? It does sound like whispers, but why secrets?”

Draco glided into his space, eyes solemn. “I came here to clear up my thoughts about everything. My mind has been in turmoil ever since my first Vision, and I can’t seem to get things back under control. When I sat in this room, I could feel the magic getting close to me, and tugging out new thoughts. It was as if secrets were whispered in my ears, and my Sight became clearer.” 

Charlie moved back and dropped into one of the couches. “It sounds dangerous. What if you can’t control it?” 

Draco’s eyes seemed like they had a spark of fire burning in them. He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Does it matter if I can?” 

In that moment it was as if Charlie’s reality was turned on its head. He was lost for words, staring at Draco. The room was clouded around them, and the dark colors seemed suddenly more pronounced. Draco’s question pounded in his head. He had a sudden epiphany that magic as he knew it was but a taste, a small drop of the deep and rich chaos around them. He saw that this issue was much bigger than he had previously been able to comprehend. 

He also saw, even if he didn’t know it at the time, the first hint of madness in Draco’s eyes. 

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Hours later, when Draco returned to the Common Room and was dropped off by Charlie, Blaise was waiting. He immediately swooped in on Draco like a mother hen. “You haven’t eaten today. I sent a house elf to get food as soon as I heard you outside. Sit down.” 

Draco tried to protest. “Blaise, I need to finish my homework. You know how behind I am.” 

The taller Italian boy snorted. “Nice try, but I already finished it. It’s in your handwriting too, so stop worrying. I am a Slytherin, we are the best at these kind of things. Now, sit.” 

With a great sigh, Draco did. As soon as he sat, he realized how much more tired he was than he had been that morning. Blaise saw it too, and he scowled. “Drake, you’re a damn idiot.” Glancing around, he grabbed a nearby backless chair and pushed Draco onto it, sitting behind him. “Stay still.” He ordered, beginning to massage the blonde’s neck and shoulders. Draco winced as the knots of tension were slowly and painfully unwound. He sagged against Blaise’s expert hands, pliant and exhausted. At once he was infinitely grateful for Blaise’s unwavering support. 

Blaise continued forcing the tension from Draco’s body, the two comfortable in the silence for many long minutes. 

A while later, Draco broke the silence. “I couldn’t do this without you, Blaise. I hope you know that.” 

Blaise scoffed. “Sentimentality from Draco Malfoy? I never thought I’d see the day.” He waited a moment, and then added quietly, “You may be a pain, but I know you will always have my back. You know better than anyone else what it feels like to betrayed, so I know you wouldn’t.” He squeezed Draco’s clothed shoulder warmly. “I know you better than anyone else, so don’t shut me out of anything. Otherwise, your body might fall apart. No one else seems to be capable of forcing you to take care of yourself.” He stood up and walked a few paces to fetch the food a house elf had brought in ten minutes or so ago, motioning Draco to sit back on the couch. 

Grateful, Draco sprawled across the leather, more relaxed than he had felt in ages. After Blaise plopped the tray on his lap and he had some food in him, he felt incredibly sleepy. 

Blaise met his eyes. “I still need to talk to you, but you need to sleep first before your body shuts down. Take some Dreamless Sleep and don’t open your eyes until tomorrow afternoon. I will wake you in time to make the Second Task. Classes after lunch are cancelled, and you aren’t expected back in class for another day or two anyways, so rest while you can.” 

Draco didn’t protest, but inwardly he knew that he would never be able to take Dreamless Sleep again for fear of missing an important vision that could mean someone’s death. The rest he would do, though. Blaise was right, he had to take better care of himself if he expected to survive the next few weeks. However, taking care of himself had never been something that he was good at, so Blaise’s help was reassuring. 

Rising, Draco moved into the dormitories and dropped onto his bed, sinking into a deep sleep almost immediately. 

Blaise moved into the room, settling into his own bed with his Potions book and keeping an eye on Draco as he slept. 

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Draco did sleep in the next morning, but not as long as Blaise had advised. He woke up around ten in the morning, considerably more sleep hours than he had gotten the last few days. Theo was the only one in the room, and he smiled at Draco as the younger blonde woke up. 

With a chuckle, he told Draco, “Your bedhead is pretty crazy right now. Get ready and then we will go down to the kitchens and get some food. Blaise’s orders; you made him pretty crazy last night you know. That was the most worked up I’ve seen him in…well.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Four years.” 

Draco’s face sobered, and he closed his eyes briefly. “I will be back when I am ready to go.” He quickly disappeared into the showers, pointedly ignoring Theo’s last sentence. Around twenty minutes later he emerged and dressed soberly but stylishly in robes of grey. 

Theo was waiting, and they left the dormitory together. Trying to lighten the mood, Theo remarked, “You know, this ‘always have someone with Draco’ thing is turning out pretty well for most of us. It gives us a legitimate excuse to skip class without feeling lazy.” 

Draco managed a smile. “Not that you need an excuse to skip class. Or that skipping class in any way changes your grades.” Theo had always been one of the smartest boys in Slytherin. His grades were better than Draco’s in most subjects. 

They chatted idly throughout the walk to the kitchens about light subjects such as school work and gossiped a bit about the other Houses and students. When they finally reached the kitchen, Theo grinned. “Apparently the twins passed along this tidbit: tickle the pear.” He did just that and the way to the kitchens opened.” Both smirking a little bit at the absurdity, they entered the kitchens and a house elf popped up right away. “Masters! How is Flutzy be helping you?” 

Theo rolled his eyes at Draco. “Flutzy, please bring Master Draco some breakfast. He was ill, so he missed breakfast in the Great Hall.” 

Flutzy eyed Draco suspiciously. “I is getting breakfast, just one moment, sirs.” The creature disappeared. 

Theo looked around with a whistle. “Big place in here, I have never been inside. I guess it takes a lot to feed so many students.” Draco agreed absently. It took a few more minutes before Flutzy popped back up with their food, which Draco took gratefully and slowly consumed. As they were leaving the kitchens to return to the dormitory, they met with an unexpected sight. 

“Mr. Malfoy, you were not in class today. Due to your illness, I suppose? Mr. Nott, I see you have decided to skip your classes today as well.” A severe frown marred Professor McGonagall’s face. “Your choices are your own business, and I know you maintain high grades. However, Mr. Malfoy, I would like to see you in my office for some time. Follow me.” 

When Theo started to follow as well, McGonagall addressed him, “Theodore, I know that you have House rules to follow, but I can assure you that Mr. Malfoy will be quite safe with me. Please return to your classes. Otherwise I might find reason to discuss this incident with Professor Snape.” Theo looked reluctant to obey, but Draco waved him off. There was nothing to be done, they couldn’t disobey a professor and get away unscathed. Although McGonagall was in Dumbledore’s faction and biased toward her own House, she was also fair to the other Houses. 

With a glare, Theo backed away, keeping his eyes on Draco. Only when the Seer indicated again that he should go did Theo finally turn and leave. 

Politely, Draco met Professor McGonagall’s eyes. “Why exactly did you want to speak to me, Professor? Did I do something wrong?” 

The Gryffindor Head of House shook her head. “No, Mr. Malfoy. We will discuss this in my office. Come.” She took off at a brisk pace, and Draco had no choice but to follow. 

Upon reaching her office, she opened the door with a password muttered too low for Draco to hear. After the door opened, she beckoned him inside. “Come inside and take a seat, Mr. Malfoy. We have much to discuss.” 

Suspiciously, Draco did as she bid, unsure what was going on. He waited for her to speak first. 

“As you know, the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament occurs today. I need your assistance on something concerning the Task.” McGonagall began. 

Abruptly and with sudden rushing clarity, Draco realized what was going on and stood rapidly, terrified of what he had realized too late to stop. “Professor, I must be going. Can we talk later today?” 

“You will be a hostage during the Second Task. I’m sorry, Draco, but I was asked to do this.” Before Draco could protest, she levelled her wand at him and placed him in a deep, enchanted sleep, careful to catch him before he hit the ground and lower him down gently. She pulled back his robes and placed them gently over a chair, where three other sets were resting. Moving into the side room, she opened the door and levitated out three other girls that were to be used as hostages for the Task. 

She noticed something surprising then as she was about to cast a Feather-Light charm and levitate Draco’s sleeping body into the air: there was a fairly large gash on his forearm that had been bleeding. She supposed it had been covered by the robes before. After the Task she would have to make sure that was taken care of, but in the enchanted sleep it couldn’t bleed more, so it would be okay for now.   
Bustling away with the four hostages, McGonagall quickly walked outside before the students got out of the next class to prepare for the Task. 

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By lunch, Theo was frantic enough to send an urgent message to Charlie through Fred and George, who he pretended to harass in the hallway after a class. Draco was not in the dorm, was not eating lunch, and was not in any of the safe places they had discussed after Harry had attacked him. 

When Pansy and Blaise asked him about Draco, he had told them the truth: McGonagall had asked to see him in her office, and he had been forced to go back to class. 

Because Blaise and Charlie had been seen having contact before, when Charlie made it to the Great Hall for lunch, he walked over to the Slytherin table and greeted Blaise, discreetly passing him a note. He smiled at the worried Slytherins, trying to reassure them. At his expression, they relaxed minutely. Blaise glanced at the note under the table. It read, Draco is fine. You will see him at the Second Task. Professor McGonagall asked him to help with something. Hermione Granger and a few others are helping also. 

He passed it along to Pansy, Greg, and Theo after he read it, taking in a deep sigh of relief. “God, Drake is going to make my heart give out one of these days. Why didn’t he send along a note or something?” 

Greg was frowning, reading and re-reading the message. “I am not sure he was able to, Blaise. I wouldn’t relax just yet. The note says he is fine now, but it doesn’t say that he isn’t in danger. And why did he mention Granger? Something isn’t adding up here, I think Charlie is trying to tell us something. If we didn’t need to worry, he would have said so. Or at least said something like, ‘I’ll watch him and make sure he’s okay,’ but Charlie didn’t say that. Something is fishy.” 

Pansy agreed with him. “You’re right, Greg. This must have something to do with the Second Task, which is why he can’t tell us everything. We should be ready for anything, because Draco didn’t say anything about what is happening during the Second Task at all. I don’t think we could get a message to Viktor in time for the information he sends back to be useful.” Casting a quick Tempus charm, Pansy grimaced. “The Task starts in twenty minutes. I guess we will find out soon, one way or another, where Draco is. We better head out.” 

The four Slytherins trekked outside together, anxious for the task to begin. They were joined, surprisingly, by Luna Lovegood, who skipped over as she saw them leaving. “Hello.” She greeted them cheerily. “I see that your Dragon has been kidnapped. You might want to ask the merpeople about that, they always seem to have issues with Dragons. Fire and water, you know.” She winked at Theo knowingly. 

The four Slytherins blinked back at her, unsure what to say. While they knew that Draco liked Luna, they had never really interacted with her before. 

Pansy recovered quickly. “Since he was with Professor McGonagall, I am sure he will be okay. If something goes wrong, though, we will do that. Charlie told us he is helping with the Second Task.” 

Luna frowned. “Not helping, but kidnapped. It’s all the Merpeople!” Then she shrugged. “But I guess the Nargles have foiled me again.” She skipped away, but her face didn’t seem happy somehow.   
Blaise frowned also. “Do you think she was trying to warn us about something?” 

Greg sighed. “She babbles stuff like this all the time. I am not too sure that I would put much stock into it.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly, then laughed self-deprecatingly. “Even though I said that, I am more worried now than I was before.” 

Pansy chewed her lower lip nervously as they came upon several docks were boats were being taken out filled with students. They all climbed into a boat and went out onto the water. In the distance, Pansy could see several tall structures with platforms and railings where spectators could watch. As they drew nearer, she looked for Draco’s white-blonde hair but he wasn’t there. 

“Granger’s not here either.” Blaise whispered beside her, eyes narrowed. They all waited with bated breath until the Task began, but there was still no sign of Draco. 

A voice began to speak through the loudspeakers amidst the crowd’s cheering: “Welcome to the Second Task! Last night, something was stolen from each of our Champions, a treasure of sorts. These four treasures, one for each Champion, now lie on the bottom of the bay. In order to win, each Champion need only find their treasure and return to the surface. Simple enough, except for this: they will have only one hour to do so, and one hour only. After that, they’ll be on their own. No magic will save them. You may begin at the sound of the cannon.”

While the loudspeaker was going, Greg leaned in to speak to Theo, “The treasures must be important people to the Champions, it all makes sense! Cho Chang isn’t here either, so that has to be it. I guess because Viktor only hung out with Draco and Pansy…” 

Theo’s brow creased in worry. “But Draco would never have agreed to this…” he remarked. 

Goyle scowled deeply. “Maybe they didn’t ask.” 

The sound of a cannon interrupted their conversation. The next hour was long and tortuous for the Slytherins as they waited for something, anything, to happen. 

\- **With Viktor** – 

After the cannon went off, Viktor dived gracefully into the water, swimming as quickly as possible. His head was Transfigured into that of a shark, allowing him to breath underwater. He shot of stinging hexes to anything that bothered to approach him, heading directly for the target, determined to finish first. Cedric was in front of him, a stronger swimmer. Fleur was at his heels, and he had no idea where Potter was. Taking his time, Viktor supposed. 

Three of the Champions rounded the corner and stopped, surprised at what they saw. Four young people floated in the middle of the water, surrounded by merpeople. Potter was already there, floating next to Hermione Granger and starting at what the other three Champions were: a cloud of red, coloring the water and making it hard to see. 

Swimming closer, Viktor would have gasped if he was able. The source of the red was Draco Malfoy, his arm bleeding profusely. Swearing vehemently in his head, Viktor threw hexes out and swooped in to grasp Draco gently, unbinding him and inspecting the wound. It looked awful; a gory mess of flesh, as if bitten by a huge beast. Viktor was not at all good at healing spells, but he did know a spell to Petrify a wound that was sometimes used in emergencies. He tried it, and to his shock, it didn’t work. Swearing even more colorfully, he began to swim with all his might back to the dock they dove off from, speeding past Cedric, who was in the lead. Sea creatures swarmed him, attracted by the smell of blood, but he fended them off ferociously. 

Moments later, he broke up to the surface and Draco woke, blinking in confusion and grabbing at his arm to stop the blood flow. Viktor smirked slightly when a colorful curse left the blonde Malfoy’s mouth, involving Professor McGonagall. 

“Your arm is a mess; you need to get that taken care of as soon as possible or you will bleed out.” Viktor warned him, shaking his head. “Just tell them you had a scratch and then a sea creature bit you. Try and hide it from the judges, though.” 

Draco hissed, blood escaping through his fingers. “Not an easy request at the moment, but I will try my best. Pansy looks absolutely white, please go tell her I’m not dying when you have the chance. And keep Potter away from me, if he looks at me with concern one more time I will send a vomiting hex his way. Hypocrite.” 

Viktor chuckled, relieved at the attitude but very worried by all the blood. “I will do my best.” They climbed on to the dock just as Cedric broke the surface with Cho. “Now go get this looked at, now. Otherwise you might lose this arm.” His taut voice belayed his concern. “Go while they are distracted with the other Champions arriving.” Viktor looked up and met Blaise’s eyes, waving him down. 

The Italian boy was there in moments. “What the hell! Why is he bleeding, Krum? Shit, this looks serious!” 

Draco was pale, and nearly wobbling where he stood. “We can discuss whose fault this is later, kids. Let’s go before I fall over, throw up, or do a combination of the two, okay?” 

Blaise immediately shut up and eased Draco into a position where he was leaning on him for support. “Right, let’s go.” 

Viktor disappeared to go make sure Pansy didn’t faint. 

There was a medical tent set up in case of injuries, but so far it was empty. A healer stood up as Blaise and Draco entered, with a rather insipid exclamation of, “Oh my!” 

Blaise eased Draco down onto a bed and stepped back, letting the healers take over. He hovered nearby just to make sure Draco was being taken good care of, wisely deciding to get the story when Draco was out of danger and in reliable company. 

Thirty minutes later, Draco’s arm was wrapped up and the bleeding had stopped. Several blood-replenishing potions had been shoved down Draco’s throat, as well as restorative draughts to give him back his strength. One of the Healers suggested a sleeping potion, but Draco immediately shot that down, “I am allergic to the ingredients in sleeping potions, and have negative reaction to forced sleep. That’s what started all this!” he barked at the healers. 

After that, affronted and cowed, they left. Blaise neared Draco’s bed. “You scared the shit out of me, Draco. What happened? How did your arm end up like that?” 

Draco bared his teeth in annoyance. “McGonagall cornered me in her office and put me into an enchanted sleep. She must have cut my arm somehow, because Viktor told me it was bleeding when he found me. It should have stopped with the enchanted sleep, but it didn’t. Which is why I didn’t want to chance a sleeping potion.” He hated to lie to Blaise, but he wasn’t ready to let slip the dangerous secret of his dreams yet. In reality he had a vision that he would rather not relive for the time being in which his arm had been viciously mauled. “Because my arm was bleeding, a lot of sea creatures were out for blood. There were so many that one grabbed my arm before Viktor could chase it off. Or so he said.” He muttered a few choices words about McGonagall under his breath. 

“I can’t believe that the Professors would condone this without asking for your consent. Didn’t they realize your father would throw up a fuss about this?” Blaise sighed. “Or at least, he would have, if you weren’t about to get disowned. Terrible timing, they deserve to get thrown under for this.” 

Draco sighed. “I know. Help me up, please? I need to find Charlie; our interview is soon.” Blaise did so, and Draco was happy to realize that he was strong enough to stand, although his arm still felt like it was on fire. Bandages covered his whole forearm, obscuring the wound from sight. “It’s freezing here, where are my robes? I need my wand.” His clothes were still wet from the water, Blaise realized. He quickly cast a drying charm on Draco’s clothes. “We need to get you back to the dorms and into some fresh clothes, first. We can find Charlie afterwards—” he abruptly cut off what he was saying as someone entered the tent. Cedric, Fleur, and Harry Potter poked their heads into the tent. Draco could see Viktor hovering helplessly behind them, and he sighed deeply. “I’m fine. Now get out.” Not in the mood, he swept past them. Blaise leaned in to whisper to Viktor, “Go find Charlie and tell him to come get Draco, okay? And find Draco’s robes and wand, also. McGonagall probably has them.” 

He followed Draco, who was gliding away from the four Champions at a rapid pace, too short-tempered to face the questioning at the moment. Draco was pissed off that he had been thrown into this competition without any intention on his part to participate, and even more so that he had been stuck in such a terrible vision with no escape, enchanted into sleep and being unable to wake up. It was an experience he would never again repeat. He would have to make it very clearly known that under no circumstances was he to be given a potion or enchanted into sleep ever again. 

After they made it back to the dormitories, Draco quickly stripped off his salt-crusted clothes and pulled on some clothes that made him look more intimidating than usual, clothes he reserved for times when he would be seen by the press. Blaise had teasingly called them his “sexy Pureblood snob” clothes in the past, and he smiled a little bit to think of that now. 

He re-styled his hair, annoyed that he had to do it for the second time that day. He threw around some things and broke them in the bathroom, trying to release his anger before the interview. Feeling a little better, he repaired everything and made sure he was presentable one last time. 

When he exited the room with all of the sinks, Blaise, Charlie, and Viktor were waiting. Viktor held Draco’s robes out. Taking them, Draco withdrew his wand where it was fastened to his sleeve and tossed the robes into his trunk, locking it again wordlessly. 

Turning to meet the worried eyes of his three friends, Draco sighed. “I am sorry, but my patience is thin right now. Blaise can tell you what happened while I go talk to Pansy real fast. Any other questions will have to wait for later.” He gave Viktor a meaningful look before turning and leaving, going to the Common Room where Pansy was surely waiting. 

The girl took one look at Draco before flinging herself into his arms, shaking a little. “Never scare me like that again, Draco! We were so worried when you disappeared, and then you showed up bleeding profusely in the water!” 

Draco stroked her hair, feeling sorry even though it hadn’t been his fault. “I’m sorry, Pansy. When I realized what was happening it was too late, and McGonagall had already drawn her wand. I can’t exactly hex a Professor, even if they pull their wand on me. You know how much trouble I would get in for that.” 

Pansy drew back and looked him in the face, eyes glittering. “I know you, and I know this will happen again. You draw trouble the way a flame draws moths.” She stepped out of his space and tried to smile. “I will try to handle it with a bit more composure next time, Draco. Good luck with the interview. We have your back when the shit hits the fan. Now go get it done, before I try to stop you from putting yourself in danger again.”

Draco kissed the top of her head in a brotherly way and smiled at her. “Yes madam.” He turned and walked back into the boy’s dormitory, where Blaise was finishing the tale that Draco had spun earlier. “Charlie, time to go. We’re already a bit late.” 

The Dragon Tamer stood from where he had been sitting on Theo’s bed. “You’re right, but I am sure she will understand. Everyone gasped in the stands when you surfaced with Viktor. The blood in the water was clearly visible, even at that distance. Most people weren’t sure whether it was yours or Viktor’s at first, but when he was walking around unharmed, we knew it was you.”  
Draco sighed, wishing that he had been more vigilant. He couldn’t afford another mistake of this magnitude, especially in the wake of all the trouble that was coming his way after this interview.   
He and Charlie left the Slytherin dungeon and went outside, where tear-down from the Second Task was still taking place. The Champions (excluding Viktor) were scattered about being interviewed. Seeing them, Draco quickly threw on a notice-me-not charm, definitely not desiring to be hounded by all the press. 

He and Charlie had arranged to meet the journalist on the lakeside, where no one went during cold days like this. Draco could see the woman waiting by the lake, watching the waves.   
Charlie met his eyes, standing at his side. “Ready to face the music?” 

Not exactly. But I will do it anyway.” Draco smirked. “Let’s go put an end to this blood feud and cause some chaos.” 

They stepped forward, moving in sync towards the reporter just as a raven flew overhead. 

_Time to ruin my life,_ Draco mused to himself. _Let’s hope this isn’t for nothing._


	8. Shaky Aftermath Pt 1

As Draco and Charlie approached the lake shore, the journalist apparently heard their footsteps and turned to face them. He brightened at seeing their faces. “Hello, gentleman! Glad to see that despite the disturbances this afternoon, you still plan to carry through with the interview you asked for. I must say, I was delighted at this opportunity. It is not every day you see a Malfoy and a Weasley agree to do anything together.” He paused, and blushed a little bit. “Oh, but I am getting ahead of myself. My name is Roy Almeidas, newbie reporter for the Daily Prophet. Please call me Roy!” He shook hands with both Charlie and Draco. 

Charlie smiled politely back at him. “Thank you for your time and willingness to speak with us, Roy.” 

Roy was all smiles, clearly delighted to have such a scoop. “It is me who should be thanking you! This will jump-start my career!” He gave a nervous glance toward Draco, who had been silent this whole time and had a dark look on his face. “Now what was it that you wanted to talk to me about today?” he asked Charlie. 

Surprisingly, Draco answered. His posture was straight and elegant, and he looked every bit the Malfoy heir. Clothes pressed, hair combed neatly, and face expressionless. “I would like to begin with a story.” His voice was smooth and melodic, the voice he sometimes slipped into when Seer business was involved. “It is a tragic love story. Generations ago, Clarence Weasley and Cressida Malfoy were engaged to be married from a young age. Over time, they fell deeply in love with each other and began planning a marriage ceremony. Even though they were lovers, their family backgrounds were quite different. Weasleys have always been opposed to dark magic.” He looked at Charlie with a wry look. “Malfoys, on the other hand, have always been drawn towards the darker magic. This caused many arguments between them, but they were too much in love to heed their difference in opinions, or take it very seriously.” Draco drew in a breath, stormy grey eyes trained towards the sky. 

Roy was scribbling it down frantically, intrigued. “But something changed?”

Charlie glanced at Draco, who was silent, and decided to take over. “Yes. A conflict began to happen. At first, it was only political, but the movement quickly escalated into a war. Circumstances placed the two lovers on opposite sides, and things got ugly very quickly. Cressida felt betrayed that Clarence would choose a political campaign over her love and abandon the Pureblooded way of life. Clarence thought Cressida was being heartless and cared nothing for those who were being hurt by misuse of dark magic. They went their separate ways, with many bitter feelings. Clarence cancelled the engagement and quickly began to court another woman, who was also Pureblooded but agreed with his cause. Cressida was incensed and declared a blood feud.” The Dragon Tamer’s eyes were still on Draco, who just stared into the sky sightlessly. “Ever since then, the Malfoys and the Weasleys have been at war and never at ceasefire.” 

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating.” Roy murmured, still scribbling notes down. “And why does this story bring you here today?” 

Draco finally pulled his thoughts back to the present, and cleared his throat. “We called you here to publicly put an end to the Malfoy-Weasley blood feud. Times are changing, and it is important that we do not remain stuck in the past. The quarrel between the lovers should have ended with them, but instead it has blossomed into something far larger and more hateful. There is no reason for our families to be in a constant state of war over something that happened decades ago. It is illogical and unnecessary.” 

Roy was wide-eyed. A conflict showed on his face: fear of Draco, yet curiosity about his situation. “How did you and Mr. Weasley meet. Mr. Malfoy? It can’t have been easy.” 

Draco exchanged a look with Charlie. “Actually, he cornered me. When we discussed things, we found that we had more in common than expected. We realized that there was really nothing that we truthfully had to argue or fight about, and that it was all just what we were used to doing.” Draco smirked in a rather superior matter. “I may be a Pureblood, but I am certainly not stodgy or predictable. This was a logical next step.” 

Roy nodded, but still looked wary of Draco. “And Mr. Weasley, how is it that you came to trust Mr. Malfoy? He is much younger than you, is that correct? What was it that drew you to him?” Roy looked up at Charlie with eager eyes. 

Charlie smiled at him, inwardly amused that Roy seemed much younger to him that Draco did. “Draco was raised to behave like an heir. That means that he does not act childishly or in a manner that might embarrass his family. He is younger, yes. But he is very mature and perhaps acts like more of an adult than I do.” Charlie nudged Draco in the ribs with his elbow playfully. “Actually, I approached him because students weren’t supposed to be in the Tournament grounds. He had a pass to be there, though. After that I bothered him for a while. Surprisingly, he didn’t tell me to piss off. Must be those Malfoy manners of his.” Charlie winked at Roy. 

The journalist looked up from his writing, peering over at Draco. “If you don’t act in a way that embarrasses your family, does that mean your father is supporting this decision?” 

Draco tried not to pale and was suddenly glad that Charlie was such a people person. He hated things like this. 

Charlie intervened. “Draco’s family matters are not what we are here to discuss.” He reminded Roy. “What other questions do you have about the blood feud?” 

The reporter shook his head mournfully. “None, Mr. Weasley. Thank you. Would it be okay to take some photographs now?” 

Draco quickly shook his head. “Just use some from the Tournament. You probably took hundreds.” His head was pounding. Dealing with a serious injury, his dream, and these dreadful questions were making him irritable. 

Charlie definitely noticed. “Thank you for seeing us today. Roy. We have some business to attend to, so we had best be going now.” 

The journalist started to speak but Draco had already spun away and begun to walk back toward the castle, shoulders hunched against the wind. 

Charlie hustled after him, definitely not going to miss this chance to figure out what had actually happened earlier in the afternoon. They kept walking, Draco remaining conspicuously silent. Before they entered the castle, in the shadow of the building, Charlie reached out to stop Draco by his shoulder. 

The younger blonde halted, but didn’t turn. “It’s been a long day, Charlie.” He finally said. 

“For you, it definitely has. But I can’t be of any help to you if you don’t’ tell me what happened in that dream to completely maul your arm. It had to have been disturbing, or you wouldn’t be trying to keep it to yourself. Now spill, you.” 

Draco smirked back over his shoulder. “Or what?” He taunted. The smirk quickly faded, though. He sighed deeply, and pulled Charlie around to face him. “You are going to have to start bringing Firewhiskey to all our little chats, Char. It seems like I am constantly unloading my baggage on you.” 

Charlie couldn’t hold back a surprised smile at the unexpected nickname, but he didn’t mention it. If he had, Draco probably would never have called him by the nickname again. “You’re underage.” He pointed out, raising his eyebrows. 

Draco snorted. “Old enough to have disturbing visions, old enough to drink.” He announced. Waving his head to dismiss the subject, he sighed once again. “I had a vision where someone was bit by a werewolf. It was too dark to tell whose eyes I was seeing from. All I know is that it was a male, about a foot taller than I am now.” He shuddered. “It was…horrific. The person was in some kind of dark corridor, and there was no way to get away. If the werewolf hadn’t been called away somehow, I might have died in the water while I was enchanted into sleep.” 

Charlie stared at Draco, shocked. “Let me see your arm.” He finally got out. 

Draco took a step back. “You shouldn’t.” he protested. “What good would it do?” 

Charlie took two steps closer. “What if it changes you, rather than just giving you an awful scar? Werewolf bites are serious business, Draco.” 

The Ice Prince of Slytherin was backed up against the castle wall now. “The healers already looked it over. It isn’t contaminated, just a normal flesh wound, I promise.” He still put his bad arm behind him, preventing Charlie from grabbing it. 

“Then why won’t you let me see it, Draco Malfoy?” Charlie put his hands on his hips, indignant. They weren’t even a foot apart now, and Charlie looked irritated. 

“Charlie…” Draco protested again, still evading the redhead’s grasp. 

Just then, there was a choking sound behind them. Charlie whirled around only to come face-to-face with a young school boy that appeared to be a first year student. 

Abruptly, Charlie realized how close he and Draco were standing to each other, and what that must have looked like to an outsider. The older Weasley blushed bright red as the younger boy scurried back inside, also as red as a tomato. 

Draco took one look at Charlie’s extremely mortified face and bust out laughing, unable to stop himself. 

Charlie waved his hands, flustered. “Draco! We—That—” he couldn’t find the words and gave up, hanging his head. 

Draco wiped tears of laughter from his eyes, still sniggering uncontrollably. When he had composed himself, he clapped Charlie on the back cheerily, now in a much better mood after laughing at someone else’s expense. “Don’t worry, Charlie. That will only be all around the school by sunset. People love to talk about me. Better prepare yourself, your brothers will wonder if you’ve gone bent!” He chortled again, finding the situation far too amusing for Charlie’s taste. 

“Draco!” The Dragon Tamer protested. “This isn’t funny! Seriously, on top of everything else, we don’t need this kind of trouble.” 

Draco smirked back. “If you’re worried that you won’t be able to get a girlfriend, don’t be. Most girls like to know that you’ve…experimented, and still want to date them.” He couldn’t help teasing Charlie.   
“This isn’t funny, Draco!” Charlie argued, but a smile was beginning to tug up the corners of his mouth. 

“Sure it isn’t.” Draco agreed, still smirking. He was too busy enjoying himself to see the gleam in Charlie’s eyes. 

The taller redhead lunged at Draco while he was relaxed, grasping the injured arm and beginning to unwrap the bandages. 

Draco froze, and grabbed Charlie’s hands to still them, despite the Flashes that resulted. Surprisingly, Draco saw himself through Charlie’s eyes, the first time they had met. Breaking out of it, he spoke to Charlie: “You really shouldn’t do this. What help will it be?” 

Charlie looked determined. “Let me see it, Draco. I want to know.” 

With a sad little sigh, Draco released Charlie’s hands and looked away. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

As the wound was unwrapped, Charlie turned a little green. It was an ugly wound, all torn flesh and scabbed over. Bruises surrounded the tears: dark purple, black, and red in color. It looked terrible. “This is going to leave a horrible scar.” The Dragon Tamer finally said. He avoided saying what he was really thinking: that this wound was worse than anything he had seen in all his days of dragon taming. 

Draco smiled ironically. “More to add to my collection.” He pulled his arm away and began to re-wrap the injury. 

“Did they not give you any healing potions?” Charlie asked in concern. “That looks as if it hasn’t healed at all.” 

Draco laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Oh, they definitely did. You should have seen it before.” Pulling the sleeve of his robe back over the retied bandages, he added, “Apparently I'm also starting to develop a resistance to healing potions. They had to use twice the normal quantity.” 

Charlie became extremely concerned when those words left Draco’s lips. “A resistance? That could be really harmful later on. Have you really taken that many lately? I mean, I know there was that burn, and then the thing with Harry. But surely Pomfrey wouldn’t have given you that many?” 

Draco turned his tired eyes on Charlie. “Pretty much every night there is something, some sort of injury. Severus has been brewing potions for me, so that Pomfrey won’t become suspicious.” 

Charlie swallowed hard. “Draco…” he trailed off, unsure how to bring up this issue. “You know that people can become addicted to potions, right?” 

Draco’s voice could have frozen fire. “Severus would never give me anything if he thought that it would do more harm than good. I am not an addict!” 

“I don’t think you are; I am just being cautious.” Charlie soothed. 

Draco quickly calmed himself, realizing he had been ruffled a little too easily. “I know, I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s been a long day. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” 

Charlie nodded. “Let’s get you back into Blaise’s tender loving care, and then I can go explain to Ron that the whole story was made up by a scared firstie.” 

“Not to the twins or your sister?” Draco grinned. 

“Fred and George would never stop laughing, rather like your reaction. Ginny is smart enough not to believe everything people gossip about in Hogwarts.” Charlie explained. 

Draco tried to look apologetic, but failed miserably. “Colour me surprised.” 

“As if!” Charlie chuckled. They stepped inside the castle, this time both putting on a notice-me-not charm. “The price of fame,” the redhead joked. 

With a snicker, Draco replied, “Welcome to my world. You wouldn’t believe how many people are interested in my personal life.” Abruptly he paused. “When you brought up your sister, I realized that I never apologized on behalf of my father for that whole mess in the Chamber of Secrets.” 

Charlie looked away. “That’s a bit of a sensitive topic.” 

Draco pressed his lips together for a moment before deciding what to say. “I tried to help, you know. I slipped a page from a library book to Granger about basilisks. Guess you lot never wondered why Granger, goody-two shoes and book-lover that she is, would tear a page from a library book. She still probably wonders how that page ended up in her bag.” 

Charlie met Draco’s eyes, his own blue orbs filled with amazement as he scanned Draco’s face. “You really did that.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement filled with surprised admiration and gratefulness. “I had no idea. I can’t believe that all this time my whole family thought you were an evil little beast, a certain future Death Eater.” Charlie grasped Draco’s shoulders and stared him down for a few minutes. Finally, he let go and shook his head fondly. “Draco, you astonish me. Is there anything you don’t have a helping hand in?” 

Draco rubbed his neck uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly a saint either, Char. Besides, I can truthfully say that I am involved in pretty much everything that happens at Hogwarts. Sometimes I don’t think those outside of traditional Pureblooded circles realize just how rich my family is, and how much influence we wield because of that wealth. As long as I am in favor with my father, no one in Slytherin will dare to go against me or risk offending me. They tell me everything.” He narrowed his eyes at Charlie, who wore a disbelieving expression. “My family didn’t get this rich by sitting on our asses. They were clever, and made cunning business decisions. Malfoys are not to be underestimated, especially my father.” 

“And humble, too.” Charlie teased, chuckling when Draco made a face at him. “Really, though, Draco. You’re incredible. Thank you.” 

Draco waved It off, not used to receiving praise. “Whatever. We still haven’t made a plan for the Third Task, and we’re running behind. I am going to call a meeting tomorrow, early in the morning. Make sure you come.” As usual, he reverted to business talk when it got too personal for him. 

Charlie let it slide. “I can do that. I’m practically on vacation, other than the dragons that are left.” 

Draco looked at the older Weasley quizzically. “Dragons? I thought they took them all back to Romania after the First Task.” 

Charlie shook his head. “It takes time to transport them, and they are too aggressive to go together. They’ve taken two back, and one is due to leave in the next day or two. We got behind with our work in Romania by coming here, so playing catch up was the priority.” 

Draco’s eyes were glittering with schemes. “How much trouble would one be in if they released a dragon during the Third Task?” 

Charlie stared at him. “I wouldn’t just be in trouble; I would be fired.” 

Draco waited without saying anything. 

“No way, Draco! I like this job.” The Dragon Tamer protested. 

“I like my family, too.” Draco said quietly, but with weight. 

It hit Charlie like a ton of bricks. “I know you do, kid.” He whispered. “I’m sorry, I was being selfish.” The redhead sighed. “This is more important than my job, right?” 

Draco blinked, surprised to be asked that question. “Only you can make that call.” He responded evasively. “But you didn’t let me finish. I didn’t say that everyone would know you were the one who let the dragon loose.” 

Charlie frowned. “You let me go on like that and you didn’t even mean for me to lose my job?” 

Draco shrugged apathetically. “I didn’t let you do anything. I was, however, a little taken aback by your response. Anyways, like I said, you won’t be in trouble for anything. And besides, I would never mean for you to lose your job.” 

Charlie eyed Draco suspiciously. “I am sensing a but here.” 

“Maybe the might suspect you had a hand in it, but they won’t be able to prove anything. Perhaps after the whole spectacle is over they will realize that the dragon actually helped while it was wreaking havoc and not be as mad about it. It will help their precious Harry Potter, after all.” Draco rolled his eyes. They had arrived at the Slytherin dorm several moments ago and were now standing outside.   
“Let’s discuss this more tomorrow, in a more private place.” Draco muttered, noticing some of his Housemates were trying to eavesdrop. “Apparently the rumor is already going around. You had best get things sorted with your little brother.” With that, he gave Charlie a little wave and stepped inside through the portrait. 

It was around seven pm now. The newspaper would be released in the early morning of the next day, and Draco assumed he could expect a Howler. Or, perhaps not. His father had never really been the Howler type; his retribution usually arrived in a subtler and more vicious form. Don’t think about that, Draco reminded himself vehemently. 

His friends were waiting in the Common Room when he walked in, and they all looked anxious. Pansy spotted him first, rising quickly and barking at all the other Slytherins to leave the room. They quickly scurried away. If Draco was the Ice Prince, Pansy might be the Fire Princess. 

“Draco, we have a problem.” Were the first words she said to Draco. 

The Malfoy heir sighed, dropping into the couch and running a hand through his hair tiredly. “Hello to you too, Pansy. What’s the problem this time?” 

His weariness must have bled through his tone, because Blaise stepped in front of Pansy. “Let me guess…you haven’t eaten since you woke up, have you?” Blaise questioned him. When Draco shook his head, the Italian boy sighed in frustration. “Draco, you have got to do better.” 

Draco nodded meekly. “Sorry, Blaise. When I get busy, I just…” he trailed off, gesturing helplessly. 

A few first or second years were still packing their bags in the corner. Blaise gestured one over. When the scared boy came toward them, Blaise snapped in his face to get him to look up. “A secret in exchange for an order. Go down to the kitchens and get a dinner tray. Tell the house elves it’s for an injured student. Get into the kitchen by tickling the pear in the corridor. Bring it here quickly and I won’t murder in your sleep. Okay?” The boy scrambled to get away from Blaise. 

Greg shook his head. “Did you have to terrify the poor lad, Blaise?” 

“It’s his fault for taking so long to leave in the first place.” Blaise was unapologetic. “We will get back to the issue when Draco has eaten.” 

Theo flopped next to Draco on the sofa and nudged him in the ribs playfully. “So…you and Charlie, huh?” 

Draco snorted (but elegantly). “It was hilarious. Looking back and forth from that mortified firstie to Charlie’s bright red face. It nearly matched his hair!” 

Pansy pouted. “So nothing really happened? I got my hopes up.” 

Draco eyed her with annoyance, ignoring the purple color of her words. “I have no interest in romance and I am not easily embarrassed, so I don’t see the point of hoping.” 

Pansy laughed at him. “You’re no fun! So how did the interview go?” 

Draco propped his feet up on the coffee table, leaning back into Theo and using his side as a pillow. “It went. It’s done. The journalist was terrified of me, asked me about my father. Charlie shut him down and he didn’t try anything else.” 

Greg shook his head. “I still think this idea is crazy.”

Draco sniggered. “Wait until you hear the plan for the Third Task. Then you’ll really think I’m crazy. But that needs to be ironed out before I fill everyone in.” He turned his head toward Pansy. “So what is the problem? Blaise, I will eat as soon as the food is here, I promise. Stop being a mother hen. The problem?” Blaise tried to interrupt but Draco cut him off. 

Pansy sighed. “It’s Potter. He has been following us around constantly and asking if you were okay, and insisting that he had to see you right away. He said something about making a deal with you, and that you two could help each other with an important matter.” 

Draco groaned as if he had been punched into the stomach and flopped back on Theo even more. “Damn him! Why can’t that blighter leave me alone? I’ve just about had enough of his meddling, bipolar ways! Stalking me, threatening me, attacking me, and then wanting to make up and be friends?” He felt like throwing something. 

There was shocked silence for several moments before Theo started laughing, and the other three joined in. Draco knew they were laughing because he never lost his head and it was strange to them, but it wasn’t helped his crossness. 

“Potter never was the brightest one out there.” Blaise grinned. “But he sure knows how to get under your skin.” 

“Perhaps it’s because he is too dumb to take a hint that I don’t like him, I certainly don’t need or want his help.” Draco growled. 

Pansy giggled, but then her face turned serious. “Either way, we need to figure out a way to deal with him. I am certainly not leaving you alone, we saw what happened the last time you two were alone together.” 

Draco let his head thump to the sofa, tired of facing so many stupid things he had to deal with in one day. “Why does everyone have to be so interested in me?” he complained. 

“Maybe it’s your suave looks and great hair.” Theo chipped in. 

“Or your sexy smirk.” Blaise added. 

“Or, possibly, your fashionista status.” Pansy nodded wisely. 

Greg pretended to look puzzled, “I thought it was his money?” he asked dopily, a throwback to the times he pretended to be dumber than he was. 

“Why do I have friends? All they do is mock me anyways.” Draco stated dramatically, looking to the ceiling as if it would answer him back. 

His friends all grinned at him. Pansy patted his shoulder. “Look, Draco, you’re intriguing to people. You’ve always been so distant and aloof, and you seemed so perfect. Lately, you’ve started coming out of your shell and showing us more of yourself. Other people notice that things are different, too, and they’re curious why. You’re handsome, smart, rich, mysterious, and seen as a bad boy. Face it, Drake, nothing about you says ordinary. You are a class above the rest. Whether they love you or hate you, they can’t stop talking about you.” 

“Don’t call me that.” Was Draco’s only response. For a few moments, he allowed himself to be content in the company around him, feeling reassured by the presence of his friends. 

“I wish Vincent were here.” Draco heard himself speaking before he realized he had said the words. He wished he could take them back as the mood went down. 

The other four looked down at the floor, feeling the same way. 

“It’s weird without him.” Greg agreed tentatively. “But he made his choice, and we can’t change that.” 

Luckily, the depressing mood was interrupted when the Slytherin returned with a tray of food and presented it to Blaise. He disappeared within seconds of the tray leaving his hands. 

Theo scooted out from under Draco and sat him upright, dropping the tray into his lap. “Eat.” He told Draco imperiously. 

Rolling his eyes, Draco did so. “Sir, yes, sir.” He retorted. He slowly ate, only now realizing how hungry he was. 

Pansy sniffed as she watched him eat. “It’s no wonder you look like a model. If I ate as little as you did, I would be stick-thin too.” 

Blaise groaned. “Please, don’t even start. It’s hard enough to force Draco to take care of himself, I couldn’t do it to both of you.”

Draco put his fork down and started to protest, but four voices chimed in unison, “EAT!” so he obeyed with narrowed eyes that promised revenge at a later date. 

When the plate was about three-fourths clean, Draco put down the fork and placed the tray on the coffee table. Although his friends glared at him and tried to make him eat more, he declined. “If I eat anything else, I will either be sick or explode.” He reassured them. “Now what are we going to do about Potter? I assume you have some ideas since you were probably sitting here a while waiting, no?” 

Pansy sighed. “I wanted to lock him into a broom-closet for the rest of the semester, but somehow I think that would be noticed pretty quickly.” 

Draco laughed. “I wish that were plausible, too. It would solve more than one problem.” 

Greg looked pensive. “You could get Viktor to threaten him. I would do it, but he knows that we are always backing you up already and doesn’t seem to care. Maybe Viktor would be more intimidating to him, being from Durmstrang and also being a Champion.”

“That’s an option, but Viktor won’t be here forever and I doubt Potter would give up that easily. He would just wait a few months, more than likely.” Blaise reasoned. “He is extremely obsessed with you lately, Draco. I doubt that will go away in a few weeks.” 

Theo laughed. “Maybe if you go into the hero-worship mode like everyone else he will leave you alone.” 

Draco looked disgusted. “I would die before I do that.” He said vehemently. “If there is one thing that I will never do, it is treat Harry Potter as anything more than an annoying git.” 

“Don’t say never, because things change. Just wait, one day you will be saved by Harry Potter and you will have to acknowledge his heroic greatness.” Theo teased. 

“Like I said. I. Would. Die, first.” Draco spat, but there was a twinkle in his eyes that showed he was amused by Theo’s words. 

“Okay, enough teasing Draco. Seriously, the best option that we came up with was indulging him, on our turf and our conditions. There is no way that he is giving up, and if we spin it like we’re doing him a favor (which we are) we get to choose what goes down and where.” Blaise explicated. “If we decide to do this, you will definitely not talk to him, Draco, and we won’t allow him to talk to you. I will set up the meeting, or one of the others will. Thoughts?” 

Draco kept a poker face. “If this will help get rid of that imbecilic, philistine churl, then I suppose it is necessary. What terms will we set?”

Theo chuckled, taking a seat on the sofa armrest. “Your insults are soooo sophisticated.” He told Draco, batting his eyelashes at the Ice Prince jokingly. “Here’s what we came up with: he can only bring two people, and one has to be a neutral party. You can bring three and one neutral party, which would be Charlie, Luna, or Viktor. I would rather stay out of this, as no one really knows whose side I am on exactly. So take Pansy, Blaise, and Goyle. I am not sure it would be a good idea to take Dragon Boy, as the Weasel is sure to be there and that could cause problems. Krum and Lovegood are your other options, so whichever one you think Potter and his cronies are more likely to listen to would be a better choice. Talk to them both and see what they say. We would meet in Snape’s office, and he will step out of the immediate room but stand by in case Potter is trying to start a fight again. Any wand-drawing will be taken as an act of war and responded to in kind. They are to involve no professors, and if they try to set us up, our revenge will be swift and deadly.”

“You’ve covered the bases. But what about a back door to get out if things get ugly?” Draco wondered aloud. 

“We’ll ask Snape to make a Portkey. Which is illegal, of course, but no one has to know.” Greg winked, clearly enjoying all this plotting. 

Draco nodded approvingly. “Perfect, but that means we will have to make sure to stand close by each other in case things get pissed and we have to get out fast. Anything else that we’re missing?”

Pansy frowned. “I can’t think of anything, but when we fill Professor Snape in he might have something to add.” 

Draco blinked. “Is Severus in his office now?” 

Blaise shook his head. “He is in the Potions lab, some students got detention.” 

Mentally cataloging that fact, Draco moved on. “Well, Greg, please let him know later tonight since you’re always up late. I am going to call a planning meeting, too. Please tell him ‘early morning tomorrow,’ and he will know what I mean.” He turned to Pansy. “Got that?” she affirmed that she was listening. With a sardonic smile, Draco continued, “I hate to eat and run, but as I am sure you all know, I had a long day and need my beauty sleep.” 

Greg chuckled. “Go on, we like you pretty. I will take care of everything else.” 

Draco quirked an eyebrow but didn’t reply verbally. He reached out a lazy hand to Theo, who pulled him up from the couch. With a gentle shove, Theo sent him towards the boy’s dormitory. “I’m sure Charlie likes you pretty, too.” He harassed the Malfoy heir. 

With a massive, drama-queen-like sigh, Draco just kept walking and ignored the heckling. He was too tired for this…

Blaise followed him into the room and dropped onto his own bed, pulling out some homework. “Sleep, Drake.” He reminded gently. 

With a nod, Draco got ready to sleep and changed his clothes, throwing, “Don’t call me that,” over his shoulder. He slipped into his bed and rolled onto his side, closing his eyes. 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

Blaise shook him awake in the morning, calling his name quietly. “Pansy is outside, fix your bedhead and get ready to head out.” 

Draco sleepily sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “Yes, mother,” he shot back, his mind working as sharp as ever. His bare feet hit the cold floor and he moved quickly to the bathroom to tidy up. A few minutes later, he waved goodbye to Blaise and left the room, heading into the Common Room where Pansy was waiting. 

She smiled at his bedclothes. “Lately you are a constant insomniac. It is good to see you looking like you slept for once.”

Draco shrugged simply. “Thanks, I guess. We’d better get moving. Severus and Viktor are waiting, I am sure.” They left Slytherin House and walked to Snape’s office down the hall. Just as the Malfoy heir had predicted, the Bulgarian Seeker and the Head of Slytherin House were already there, drinking coffee and making awkward small talk. 

They both looked reassured when Draco and Pansy entered. Snape eyed Draco’s attire with amusement, but also no little relief. “Charlie should be here soon.” Draco added, taking a seat and swiping Snape’s cup, downing a long swallow before handing it back. 

Severus made a revolted face, but he continued to drink the coffee all the same. “I assume you heard about the Potter situation.” Draco remarked, looking at the Potions Professor in inquiry. At his nod, Draco continued, “Pansy and the others will approach him this afternoon. They will let you know what time is decided upon.” 

Turning to Viktor, the Slytherin prince explained the situation briefly. “Do you think that you or Luna Lovegood would have more influence on Harry and his friends?” Viktor frowned in thought. “The Weasley boy would listen to me. Harry…maybe. But his friend, with the bushy hair, she would not. Perhaps Luna might be a better choice, because they do not see her as threatening. But if you want more power, I would be happy to help.” The Bulgarian Seeker’s accent, as usual, was strong. His voice shone bright gold, reminding Draco of the color of a Snitch. 

“Thanks for your input. Then Luna would be--” Draco broke off as Charlie entered the room. “Sorry I’m a bit late, the dragons were feeling a bit frisky this morning.” The redhead sat down and poured himself a cup of coffee, practically inhaling it. 

The others watched in amusement. Pansy cleared her throat. “So... the reason we are all here practically before dawn, Mr. Malfoy?” she asked impatiently. 

Draco nodded, mood immediately turning professional. “It’s about our plans during the Third Task. Charlie and I were talking yesterday and I came up with an idea.”

Severus eyed him warily. “Why do I have the feeling that I am not going to like this…” 

Charlie grinned over his mug. “Because you are a smart man, and Draco is a crazy one.” 

Viktor shook his head in bemusement. “Another crazy scheme, Draco?”

“It is a good plan.” Draco defended. “Our main problem that we keep running into so far is that we need a massive distraction. Well, we found one. There are still two dragons here, and one will still be here when the Third Task occurs. So…we set it loose. With a rampaging dragon flying around, no one will pay attention to little old me.” 

Pansy looked at Draco in disbelief. “How do you plan to keep the dragon from hurting anyone?” 

Draco smirked. “Well, we have Charlie. Plus, the dragon that is left isn’t the Horntail, so if people leave it alone, it should just fly around and freak everyone out. Its eggs are safe, after all. No reason to attack. If it does happen to do something, everyone saw the way that Cedric Diggory dealt with the dragon safely in the Tournament. If they aren’t smart enough to try that, they deserve to be dragon food.”

Snape looked pleased with that bit of dark humor. “I don’t mind the dragon plan. What I do mind is you gallivanting off to do heroic, Gryffindor-like, stupid things afterward.” 

Draco tapped his fingers against the table thoughtfully. “It’s pretty simple: I use a broom and fly to the wherever the Twiwizard Cup is while the Champions fight their way to it. If you look at the Tasks of the Tournament historically, they always include some element: earth, fire, air, or water. Fire and water have already been used in the first two Tasks, and it is impossible for them to use air because Viktor, Diggory, and Potter would have such a huge advantage in the air over Fleur. So, whatever the Task will be, it will be on the ground, and involve earth. After I get to the Cup I will use my broom to push the Cup into a bag, replace it with a new cup, and fly out. I am open to suggestions what we should do with the cup after I retrieve it. The key objective is to keep any of the Champions from grabbing the Cup before I replace it with another one.” He looked at Snape and Pansy. “I have intelligence that says the Cup will be a Portkey, and that Death Eaters will be waiting on the other side. If we let this slide, everything will go to hell. Trust me on that one, this is important. I am not harboring any Gryffindor-like tendencies, this is purely for self-preservation.” 

There was silence for a while, as those present pondered over the proposed plan. Viktor spoke first. “How do you plan to fly around unnoticed? I am sure that they will have people keeping the crowds away from the Task.” 

A strange gleam entered Draco’s eyes. “You know, Pansy, something occurred to me this morning. I was thinking about what I would ask from Potter in exchange for indulging him with this circus of a meeting, and it came to me.” He leaned forward, elbows on the table and fingers intertwined regally. “When Potter was attacking me so aggressively in the Owlery, as soon as Viktor arrived he disappeared. What if, to test how serious he is, I asked to borrow the Invisibility Cloak he seems to be in possession of? He could set a few conditions about how I am allowed to use it, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my purposes.” The Ice Prince of Slytherin gave an ironic twist of the lips. “That might make him feel better about everything.” He scoffed. 

Severus seemed pleased with this. “If you could get him to hand that over, even for a day, that would help things considerably. But if that doesn’t work, you need a backup plan. Potter might refuse just out of sheer spite.” Just like his father went unspoken. 

Pansy smirked. “That would be a rather clever plan, and as you said, it will determine his seriousness. If he refuses to hand it over, we can ignore him with a good reason. If we use this plan, no matter what Potter does we win in some way.” 

Viktor crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What is your plan if you cannot get this Cloak?” His accent was thick. 

Draco grimaced. “Normally I would ask my father for one, but that is not an option and there isn’t enough time anyways. I was thinking of a timed Human Transfiguration spell. Viktor has shown that he has aptitude for it, or Severus, you could assist me. I could be a bird, something small that can fly to the center of the maze. It will be the timing that would be tricky.” 

“Risky, but plausible.” Snape agreed. 

Charlie had been conspicuously silent until now, but he finally chipped in. “I think the plan is solid, but we do need to put other contingency plans into place. What if you are found out or injured, Draco? We need someone standing by in case, someone who can fly well. Viktor will be in the Tournament and the rest of you already have responsibilities.”

Draco pressed his lips together in thought. “What about Fred or George? They are both Quidditch players, yes?” 

Charlie smiled. “I was actually thinking of myself. After I release the dragons, I should stand by in case you need my help, and keep an eye on the dragon in the meantime.” 

Draco shook his head. “Your main attention needs to be on the dragon. It would be disastrous if it actually hurt anyone seriously.” 

Charlie placed his palms flat on the table, leaning forward in his urgency. “It would also be disastrous if someone hurt you seriously because they assumed you are up to no good.” 

Pansy and Viktor were both nodding. “He has a point, Draco.” Pansy voiced. “There will be Aurors, Professors, and other spectators in the crowd who can help people. What they don’t be doing is helping you.” 

Draco couldn’t refute that logic, but somehow he knew that Charlie would go too far in trying to protect him. “One of the twins, then. That way you can keep your full attention on the dragon.” 

Charlie narrowed his eyes, sensing that Draco was trying to keep him away. “It would be very noticeable if Fred or George was not in the stands. They do tend to draw a lot of attention. My assistance would be best…unless there is some other reason why you don’t want me to help.” 

Folding his hands neatly, back very straight, Draco shook his head. “No, that’s fine. Clearly it is the best option.” While he knew in his brain that this was the logical option, his inner childish side wanted to protest the over-protection. 

Snape raised an amused eyebrow at the Malfoy heir, able to deduce from his posture that he didn’t actually like the idea. Draco scowled back at his godfather before asking, “Anything else to add?” 

When no one else said anything, a grim look crossed Draco’s face as he steeled himself for a difficult day. “That’s it, then. Thank you all for coming.” With all the grace and poise of a Pureblood, Draco stood and glided from the room. The other four watched him go, worry on their faces (with the exception of Severus Snape, who never looked worried). Draco’s whole bearing currently reflected power, strength, and he had an almost untouchable air around him. Clearly, he wanted to be alone for the time being as he faced the wreckage of his life that would result from yesterday’s newspaper interview.   
His face could have been carved from stone, it was so still and composed. Pansy let him go alone, knowing that if he looked like this, no one would dare to touch him until they knew what reaction Lucius Malfoy would have to the news of his son’s betrayal. It was moment’s like these when those around Draco remembered what a formidable force he was. He may not be as magically gifted as Potter (most wizards were not) but he was strong nonetheless. More than anything else, though, it was his political powers that were frightening. The Malfoy family’s power amplified Draco’s, but even if Draco was disowned he would always be a force to be reckoned with. 

In their younger years, Draco had tested himself in subtle ways: he was able to start a fight between two other students with but a few words, and excuse himself from their conflict without anyone noticing that he had actually been the cause of the fight. He could, with only a glance, cause other people to act in ways he wanted. Pansy hadn’t noticed for years, but Draco was a manipulative bastard when he so desired to be. Those skills would definitely serve him well in a time like this, where he was everyone’s enemy. In fact, he had practically painted a target on his back. 

As Draco disappeared from the room, Pansy shook her head in admiration. Sometimes, she forgot how amazing Draco was: intelligent, rich, handsome, and despite what many others believed, brave. Sometimes that bravery was masked by his cleverness, but he was not afraid of confrontation or the opinions of others. Pansy had always respected Draco’s effortless ability to lead and even envied it at times. He was such a driven and intense person that it was impossible not to be affected by his charisma. 

However, despite all of that Draco relied heavily on his friends, and even more so on his family. Pansy knew that chipping the bottom off that support base would hurt Draco more than he expected it to. While she was supremely confident that Draco would handle it well on the outside, she was a little worried about his ability to cope with his own matters internally. 

Viktor and Charlie excused themselves, so Pansy turned to meet Professor Snape’s eyes. “He will need you now more than ever.” She said, with solemn quietness. 

Her words caused a change in Severus’s demeanor. He straightened and his eyes softened from the normal sharp look. “He will have whatever he needs from me.” The Potions professor promised, standing to clear the coffee supplies from the table. 

Pansy took this as a dismissal. Slowly, she stood and left the room, steps growing shorter and shorter. She was reluctant to enter the Great Hall, where the entire school would be abuzz with questions about Draco’s personal life and perhaps even mockery of it. She almost couldn’t bear the thought of the vicious blows these people would deal to Draco’s perception of himself. While Draco would not change himself because of their words, that in no way meant that the words had no impact. 

Readying herself, Pansy took a deep breath and entered the double doors of the Great Hall, determined to be there for Draco even if what he was going through now made her want to cringe away. We will get through this together, she thought to herself. No matter what.


	9. Shaky Aftermath Pt 2

The Great Room was abuzz with gossip, and all eyes were fixed upon the Slytherin table and Draco Malfoy. He sat as normal, calmly sipping his tea and daintily eating his breakfast with the manners of a high-class heir. 

Pansy slid in across from him. It was very easy, as all the other Slytherins sat at least seven feet away from Draco. After she had sat, she heard the whispers: “Blood traitor.” “Mudblood-lover.” “Disgrace!” Copies of the Daily Prophet were everywhere, being whispered over and pointed at. 

Draco sat calmly with composure, but the tiny tremble of his hands as he cut a poached egg betrayed him to anyone who knew him well. He did not care in the slightest what the Hogwarts students thought of him, his apprehension was in reserve for his father’s reaction. 

Suddenly there was an outburst from the Gryffindor table as Ron Weasley finally began to read the article. “LIES! He’s a DEATH EATER, there is no way my brother would agree to this! He must have used some kind of dark magic!” Ron’s face was red (but verging on purple) with anger as he stood and shook the paper in Draco’s direction. Potter and Granger held him back as he struggled to run at Draco.  
Just then, though, something unexpected happened to silence the onlookers. The Great Hall doors swung open, and Fleur Delacour and the other Beauxbatons students entered through the double doors. 

Almost as if they did not sense the tension in the room, the French students slipped into the Slytherin table, filling up the empty space around Draco Malfoy. 

Although it would have been impossible not to notice that Draco was being shunned, Fleur did not acknowledge it. Instead, she greeted him warmly. “Draco, I hope you are feeling better this morning. That wound looked awful.” Her heavily accented words were caring and friendly. 

A tiny smile crossed Draco’s lips, but he did not indulge his feelings any further. “I am well, thank you Fleur. The Healers took good care of me.” 

Pansy snorted, but didn’t contradict him. “You did excellent on the Task, Fleur. It is nice to see a witch doing so well in the midst of the schools’ finest wizards. It shows what we are capable of.” She leaned forwards, outstretching her hand. “My name is Pansy Parkinson; it is nice to finally meet you. Draco and I have known each other practically since birth.” 

As the girls were talking, the Owls swooped in a delivered mail. Draco discreetly tucked a letter into his robe, deciding it would be best to read it in private later. No one seemed to notice that he had received a letter. 

Fleur beamed at Pansy. “It is good to know you, Pansy. We girls should stick together.” 

The room finally seemed to be recovering from the shock of Fleur and Draco being friends, especially Ron Weasley. He began to storm back over towards Draco, face nearly purple with rage. “What did you do to my brother, Death Eater?” he demanded, hands fisted at his side. 

Draco turned calmly, sunlight lighting up his aristocratic features as he regarded Ron regally. “Weasley, I do believe that I formally withdrew the feud between our families. There is nothing I would rather do less than argue with you.” 

The whole Hall seemed to draw a collective breath, waiting for Ron’s response. Harry and Hermione stood on either side of Ron, watching the conversation with wide eyes and tense hands ready to draw their wands. 

“And that’s it, is it? You expect me to just forget everything you’ve done? Every last time you called ‘Mione a Mudblood? The diary your father gave to Ginny that was almost responsible for her death?” Ron couldn’t control his rage, and hauled Draco to his feet by his robes. “Is that what you expect?” 

Draco coolly met Ron’s eyes. “When did I say that? I don’t expect anything from you. It’s your brother I am friends with.” With a slight sneer, he pulled his robes from Ron’s hands (careful not to touch his skin because of possible Flashes) and smoothed down the rumpled fabric. “Stop making a scene, you and Potter can do that well enough without involving me.” 

Ron moved to attack again, but Hermione held him back. “Ron, come on. He’s not worth it, let it go.” She whispered into the youngest Weasley boy’s ear, but Draco still heard her. 

With an ironic twist of the lips, Draco slid back into his seat, turning his back to the Golden Trio and informing them how much he cared what they thought of him. Downing the dregs of his tea, Draco pushed away his plate and stood, walking out of the Great Hall. His head was held high and his posture was powerful. However, his hands were shoved deep into his robe pockets, his left ghosting over the letter he had yet to open, the letter that might change his fate.

Pansy tagged at his heels, determined not to leave him alone. When they reached the Slytherin Common Room, Draco waved and she disappeared into the Girl’s dormitory, none the wiser about the letter that was practically burning a hole in his pocket. 

Casting a quick notice-me-not charm, Draco left the Common room and walked to Snape’s office, which he knew would be empty. The Potions Professor had been in the Great Hall when he had left, and was likely to stay for some time to gauge the various reactions to the news. Sliding down the wall outside the office (even Draco was not gifted with knowledge of Severus’s office password or a spare key) he slid the letter open with a single finger. He felt secure in the knowledge that no student would hang around a Professor’s office, especially Snape’s. 

Without even unfolding the letter, he knew he was in deep shite. The darkness of the ink bled through the back of the page, showcasing Lucius Malfoy’s furious, heavy hand. The note read simply: _Clear your schedule. You will return to the Manor this evening. A carriage will be sent. LM_

Feeling suddenly woozy, Draco laid his head in his hands and took deep breaths, trying to calm himself from the sudden wave of utter panic that washed over him. Gathering his strength, he rose to his feet, pocketed the letter, and went about his business, trying to forget the words he had just read. 

Throughout the rest of the day, Draco walked through classes and meals with a sense of dread hanging over everything. While his façade was perfectly in place, he couldn’t focus and his body was tense. He was just going through the motions, mind blank. 

After his last class, when his friends were gathering up their books and quills, Draco laid a hand on Theo’s robed, bony shoulder and whispered, “I will be going to the Manor tonight. Stall Potter’s meeting until I come back.” 

A flash of sympathy crossed Theo’s hazel eyes, and he squeezed Draco’s shoulder, trying to offer a bit of comfort. “Be safe, you wanker.” He whispered back before hefting his bag on his shoulder and exiting the classroom. Pansy and Blaise tried to linger, but Theodore pulled them along, leaving Draco alone. 

Draco stood frozen for a few moments before forcing himself to move. His own footsteps sounded loud, yet the silence was stifling. The worst part about this situation was that he could not predict his father’s actions. Disownment would have been definite, but Draco had no other siblings to become the heir so he was unsure his father would go there. It was possible that his father would have him transferred to Durmstrang, but Draco’s mother would protest against that just as she had when Draco had been entering into his first year. He was sure that his father would try to force him to obey with the curse, but Draco hoped to be able to resist that as well. 

Whatever happened, it was sure to be unpleasant. With slow steps, Draco approached the front of the castle, where a carriage waited just as his father had informed him it would be. The driver was silent, so Draco said nothing in return as he stepped inside the carriage. He carried only his book bag, not having bothered to return to his room to leave it. Cracking open the Transfiguration textbook, he tried to occupy his mind with something other than what-ifs. 

Upon his arrival at Malfoy Manor, neither of his parents were outside waiting to greet him. The driver opened the door and Draco stepped out, still marveling at the stuffy silence that seemed to follow him like a great cloud. 

Again smoothing his robes, Draco approached the Manor, feeling the Wards tingle over his skin as he entered the protected part of the home, passing through the main gates. He made his way to the door, which opened with a great creak. 

Heavy footsteps carried him into the dining hall, where his parents sat in flickering candlelight. Both wore grim expressions that expressed their displeasure. Draco’s heart sank as he stepped closer, face blank. “Mother, Father.” He greeted politely, slipping into a chair across from his mother. 

Lucius Malfoy sat at the head of the table. “My very foolish son.” His tone was deep and poisonous, and the sound of it sent chills down Draco’s spine. “You have disappointed me.” 

Draco wanted to laugh at the predictable words, but he couldn’t dredge up the amusement when his heart was shrouded with dread. “Yes.” He agreed simply instead, meeting his father’s eyes. “It seems I have.” 

A fist slammed down onto the table, causing both Narcissa and Draco to jump at the sudden sound. “Apologizing to blood-traitors? You bring dishonor to the family.” Lucius’s voice deepened, and his eyes blazed in anger as he regarded Draco. 

Draco said nothing, deciding that his father was in such a mood that reason was unlikely to improve his situation. It was then that his mother spoke. “Draco, what possessed you to do something as senseless as ending a blood feud that has been going on for decades?” Her voice pleaded with him for answers, but he had none that he was willing to give so he remained silent. 

Lucius Malfoy, seeing that they were not going to receive much of a response from Draco, stood from his seat and moved to stand behind Draco. His hands descended onto Draco’s shoulders, and he gripped his son tightly, threateningly. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that your grandfather somehow got to you. This is exactly like what he might do, sympathizing with blood traitors and Muggle-lovers.” He spat the words as if they were poisonous. “I am in a position of influence, Draco, and I cannot have my own son undermining by efforts.” He lifted his wand and steadily pointed it at Draco. “Obey me. Cut all ties with the Weasley family forever.” 

Draco could feel the compulsion, like a heavy weight over his skin. It was just like when Viktor had placed him under the curse, and he had tried to resist it. Now, however, the compulsion was not nearly as strong, considering that his father’s curse was not a real but a quasi-Imperius curse. “I am sorry, father. I cannot act against our family’s best interest, even at your behest.” 

The hands tightened into a painful, vise-like grip. “You are a cur and an insolent scoundrel!” Lucius Malfoy pulled Draco from the chair and stared into his eyes, still gripping his shoulders tightly. “Do not disobey me, Draco. You know what I am capable of. Overcome this weakness and uphold your honor.” 

Draco held back a flinch at the reminder but closed his eyes, unable to bear looking his furious father in the face any longer. “I am doing what I must. You may do what you must.” He replied simply. 

A resounding slap was heard across the room, and Draco staggered back from the force of the heavy-handed blow his father had just dealt him, clutching his face but remaining blessedly silent. Words usually made his father more furious, so he had learned to hold his tongue. He could feel the area below his eye beginning to swell already. 

Narcissa gasped from the other side of the table, but made no move to interfere. 

“Remember your place, Draco.” Lucius Malfoy hissed through clenched teeth. “Flippancy does not become you. You are the heir to the House of Malfoy, and you will act accordingly.” He stared Draco down harshly. “You have one last opportunity to wash your hands of this foolishness, before I am forced to impose consequences. Will you desist from this idiocy?” 

Draco did not meet his father’s eyes. “I have chosen my path, Father, and you will not turn me aside from it.” The Ice Prince of Slytherin was actually a little amazed by the words coming out of his mouth. He had never expected that it would be so easy to defy his father. Before, the words had always gotten stuck in his throat, and he ended up meekly nodded and obeying like the perfect son. It was difficult to tell how much of that had been the curse, and how much had been Draco’s own undesired compliance. 

A blaze of fury lit up Lucius Malfoy’s eyes, so much like Draco’s own. He opened his mouth to speak, and Draco interrupted him. (Looking back, that was probably one of the most stupid decisions he had ever made.) “The honor of the Malfoy family is not the same under my perspective as it is yours. Therefore, I will do what I must to direct the House of Malfoy in the direction that is more profitable and honorable, even if it is direct opposition to the choices you make.” 

The fury of Lucius Malfoy simmered down into something cold and intensely more frightening. “Then I have failed to teach you correctly about your duty.” Stepping forwards, he rapped Draco sharply across the legs with his cane, sending his son tumbling to the floor. “You have taken away the painless option of punishment through your empty-headed ways, so I have no choice but to do this the brutish way.” He looked up for a moment and met his wife’s horrified eyes. “Narcissa, please excuse yourself. We will discuss the other matters at a later time.” 

Draco’s mother gave him a helpless glance, and for a moment he thought she would intervene, but then she turned her back and quickly left the room. That moment of abandonment, of watching his own mother turn her back on him, was more excruciating to Draco than anything else that happened that evening. 

Pain colored the rest of the night. Pureblooded families were quite old-fashioned, especially in their preferred methods of punishment and torture. Lucius Malfoy preferred a barbed whip, with sharp shards of glass embedded into the leather. For many long minutes (Draco did not know how much time passed, but he suspected it was around an hour) the long whip cut across his back as his father punished him for his disobedience. The only thing that kept him from passing out was the saddened look on his father’s face, the look of deep disappointment and regret that Draco would not follow principles the family deemed important. The look on his father’s face cut deeper than the whip strokes. 

Sometime later, his father coiled the whip back up, exited the room, and left Draco alone on the floor, bloodied and weak. It was many moments later before he had the strength to haul himself to his feet and drag his battered body down the hall to an empty bedroom. Every slight movement left burning trails of pain across his bloodied back, and it was all he could do not to cry out at the blistering agony.   
Panting at the exertion, he lowered himself, face-first, onto the bed and touched the silver mark upon his hand. _Viktor…I need you to get me out of here. I need to see Snape._

The response was immediate. _Where are you?_

 _Malfoy Manor. I’m…injured._ Draco’s breathing was still labored, and sweat shone on his forehead. _Quickly, I might sleep otherwise._

Almost immediately, the pop of Apparation sounded and Viktor hovered over him, expression darkening at all the blood. “We will Apparate now.” He informed Draco, gently lifting him up and frowning at Draco’s grimace of pain and the sheen of sweat upon his brow. Seeing slender, refined Draco in this state was difficult for Viktor. 

After a disorienting feeling caused by the Apparation, they were in Snape’s office. Sitting at his desk, Snape tensed and lifted his wand at the intrusion. Seeing the situation, anger crossed his expression and he took some determined steps towards Draco. “Bring him this way,” He ordered Viktor, unlocking a hidden door and gesturing to a bed. 

Draco’s lips were pressed together tightly to hold back his sounds of pain. His school shirt was in shreds and soaked with his blood. Viktor carefully extricated his arms from the remnants of the sleeves, pausing when the pain was too much for Draco to recover. 

Snape was beyond caring about the mess. He directly poured three healing potions over his back, instead of having Draco ingest them. The bleeding stopped, and the wounds started to close, but they were very swollen and red despite the potions. 

“How are you going to fly after the Cup in this state, Draco?” Severus hissed, disapproval written across his whole expression. 

Draco laughed breathily, exhausted and certainly not amused. “Save the lecture for later, Severus. I have heard enough tonight.” His words were sharp. 

Snape’s face cleared and he sighed. “Of course.” After a moment of hesitation, he put a hand on Draco’s head and added, “If it is any consolation, you did the right thing.” 

Chuckles, more like breaths, escaped Draco’s lips. “Not really, but I appreciate the effort, especially coming from you.” His eyes fluttered closed, exhausted. 

Viktor watched as Snape smothered Draco’s injuries in healing potions and salves and bandages. “You did it, Draco. You stood up to him and resisted the curse.”

“I did. It was actually easier than I was expecting.” Draco smiled, but then sobered at the remembrance of his mother’s actions. His eyes clouded and he realized that he could no longer rely on his family for anything. It was time to become completely self-sufficient and completely cut off his weaknesses. 

Snape finished bandaging the wounds and spoke briskly, “Because of your resistance to healing potions, I couldn’t do a lot. To give you more is dangerous, so it will still be painful. Be very careful, or the wounds will reopen. You can’t afford to lose much more blood; you will probably already be weak for two or three days.” 

Viktor helped Draco to sit and Snape handed him two blood replenishing potions. “Drink up.” The professor ordered the younger Slytherin. Draco did as he was told. “Don’t tell the others about this.”   
Draco finally said, wincing as he stood up unsteadily. “Especially Charlie. He will feel responsible and that is absolutely ridiculous.” 

Snape rolled his eyes. “They will likely find out anyways.” But he nodded nonetheless. “Stay here for tonight and return to your dormitory in the morning. You weren’t supposed to return tonight anyway.”   
“Thanks. Both of you.” The blonde Slytherin slumped back down onto the bed and closed his eyes. The other two took that as their cue to exit and waved off the lights. 

Draco was asleep in moments, exhausted from the turmoil of the day. 

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

When he awoke, the wounds were sore and painful, but bearable. Movement hurt less than it had previously. Blessedly, he had a long sleep with no visions, most likely induced from his body’s complete and utter lack of energy. 

Checking the time and finding it a bit later than he usually woke up, Draco transfigured one of the blankets into a shirt and pulled it on carefully. Several times the fabric caught a wound on his back and he bit back a yelp. He threw a glamour over his bruised cheek and walked as quickly as he could bear back to the Slytherin Dungeon. Pansy, Theodore, and Blaise were waiting inside.

“Where have you been?” Theo hissed, blue eyes annoyed. “We were worried!” 

Draco’s eyes were hard as flint, and of a color to match. “You knew I went home.” He said shortly, not bothering to say more. “When is this meeting with Potter and his cronies?” 

His three friends exchanged looks and decided not to confront him about his own family matters. Pansy answered. “Twenty minutes. Luna will meet us there. Snape’s office, as planned.” 

Draco cursed under his breath and slipped past his Housemates into the dormitory. “Not enough time to shower, then.” He grabbed a change of clothes and disappeared into the bathroom. Fortunately, none of his roommates noticed this unusual action. Typically, Draco was comfortable changing in the room, but because of obvious reasons he preferred not to do so covered in bandages. Quickly changing his clothes into something more presentable, he combed his hair and put on cologne to mask the scent of blood that still clung to him. 

Seven minutes later he emerged, perfectly pressed and put together. 

Pansy shook her head in admiration. “I can do that, but you do it so much faster and better.” She complimented him. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Years of practice. Let’s get to Snape’s office. Where’s Greg?” 

Theo smirked. “He went ahead to prepare a few surprises, just in case. Professor Snape should be there also.” 

Draco smirked back. “He’s a nasty blighter if you aren’t his friend.” He commented off-handedly, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Thanks, Theodore, for passing along the message yesterday.” He clapped his Housemate on the back. “We will be back soon. You know what to do if we aren’t.” 

Theo nodded. “Of course. Good luck.” He disappeared back into the dormitory. 

Pansy, Blaise, and Draco left the Common Room and meandered to Snape’s office. To their surprise, Luna Lovegood and Cedric Diggory waited outside, chatting amiably like old friends.   
Diggory must be Potter’s neutral party. Wonder if he will bring Granger or the Weasel along. Draco thought to himself. 

Luna spotted the three newcomers first. “Hi Dragon!” she greeted cheerfully, before pausing. She tapped her cheek meaningfully. “You’re looking a little blue there.” Everyone was confused by her cryptic comment except Draco, who nodded with a grimace. 

Cedric blinked awkwardly at her familiar address to Draco, unsure what to say. He somehow got the impression that Draco didn’t care for him much, so he muttered a simple, “Hello,” and left it at that.   
Pansy smirked at Cedric, finding his uneasiness amusing. “A Puff, hm? Well, we have quite the assortment. Students from every house involved! As expected from Potter, I suppose.” 

Blaise stood silently, looking cold and serious, and Draco greeted Luna with a tiny smile and a polite nod. To Cedric, he simply said, “Diggory. Is Potter on his way?” 

Cedric shrugged uneasily. “Should be, but I don’t know.” 

Goyle suddenly stepped outside, causing Cedric to jump, startled. Goyle smirked at the reaction. “Come inside, Snape is in the Lab. He said if we break anything, Potter’s paying for it.” 

Pansy snickered. “If it wasn’t Professor Snape’s things, I might be tempted to break everything just to annoy Potter. But it would annoy Snape too, so…better not.” It was amusing for her to note the difference between Diggory and Lovegood: in the midst of the Snakes, Luna was wacky and comfortable as she was anywhere else, while Cedric looked afraid for his life, which might have something to do with Blaise’s intimidating smoldering in the corner. 

Just then, a noise came from around the corridor, and Potter’s shaggy mop of hair came into sight. To Draco’s surprise, he had done the sensible thing and brought the Granger girl instead of the Weasel.   
There was a tense silence as Potter and Granger took in the people assembled. To Draco’s inner satisfaction, a light of surprise flickered in Potter’s eyes when he saw Luna there. Above all else, he certainly didn’t want to become predictable to Potter. 

Wordlessly, Draco stepped inside the office, and his companions followed. Ironically, they gathered around the table Draco had sat at yesterday morning to discuss Third Task plans. Once everyone had taken a seat, Draco got straight to the point. “Tell me why we’re here, Potter.” 

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, unsure where to start. “For God’s sake,” Draco muttered under his breath, irritated with the lack of direct speech. 

Blaise quirked a smile, overhearing the impatiently uttered words. “They’re Gryffs, Drake. They don’t know how to handle you.” 

“Don’t call me that,” was the expected quiet reply. 

Finally Hermione began to speak. “Harry told me a little about your conversation before…well…” she trailed off, unsure how to phrase it. 

“Before he pummeled me?” Draco bit back acidly, not bothering to spare anyone’s feelings. “Do continue.” 

“Well, he told me about what you said, about his magic being out of control. And I think you’re right.” Hermione bit her lip, glancing at Harry in concern. 

“I am so relieved; I couldn’t bear to have you disagree with me.” Draco retorted sarcastically. “The point, Granger? I am not exactly bursting with anticipation here.” 

Pansy, Greg, and Blaise smirked from the sidelines, Cedric blinked owlishly at the back-and-forth, and Luna simply smiled sunnily. 

“I need your help.” Harry Potter finally spoke up, meeting Draco’s stone-cold eyes. 

“Well, perhaps you should have thought of that before I ended up in the Hospital Wing, hm?” Draco narrowed his eyes, words merciless in their honesty. 

“I tried everything, searched the entire library, and there’s nothing like this written about anywhere! But you seem to know something.” The bushy-haired witch looked at Draco with hopeful eyes. 

Draco crossed his arms over his chest and leaned forward on the table, careful not to brush his injured back against the chair. “What’s in it for me?” he asked bluntly. 

Harry eyed him warily. “What do you want?” 

“I could do your homework for the rest of the term!” Hermione volunteered. 

Draco sneered at her. “We’re not like your Weasley, schoolwork is something that comes naturally to us. Not to mention my marks are comparable to yours. No thank you.” 

Harry’s brows knitted together at the unfavorable mention of Ron, but he didn’t protest. “Do you want me to let Krum win the Tournament?” 

Again, Draco gave him a disdainful look, and barked out an unamused laugh. “Let him win? He will win regardless of what you do. Don’t be an imbecile.” 

“What, then, Malfoy?!? What is it that you want!” Harry’s exasperated words burst forth, tired of Draco making him feel stupid.

Draco laid his palms flat on the table and leaned forward. “The Invisibility Cloak: let me borrow it for the rest of the term.” 

Granger’s eyes widened dramatically. “How does he know about that?” she hissed to Harry, looking shocked. 

“Do you think I’m a moron? Obviously, when someone disappears before your eyes after attacking you, that’s the clearest solution. So, hand it over Potter. Unless…you don’t actually want my help.” 

Harry wavered, unsure what to do. “I can’t let you keep it forever. And you have to promise not to hurt anyone or do anything underhanded.” He stipulated. 

Draco rolled his eyes impatiently. “Draw out a contract if you want, Potter. But you can’t tell me what I can and can’t do with it, other than not hurting anyone who is on your side.” The Ice Prince laced his fingers together and placed them behind his head, leaning back comfortably. “So? I tell Granger what I know, and you lend me that Cloak. Deal?” 

Hermione cut in. “You can’t use the Cloak to embarrass us, either. No hurting or embarrassing anyone.” 

Draco smiled, wolf-like. “You lot embarrass yourselves enough already, no need to add to that mess.” However, he was careful not to explicitly agree to anything. 

Pansy choked back her laugh before chipping in. “So? Agreed, Potter?” 

Luna added her two cents as well. “The cloak will be used in an unexpected way, but you will be thankful for that unconventional usage later rather than angry. The Nargles told me so.”

Harry looked at Hermione, who nodded determinedly. Next, he looked to Cedric. 

The Hufflepuff Champion had a few words to add. “You also should agree not to use the Cloak to cheat or interfere in the Triwizard Tournament.” 

Draco chose his words carefully. “I will do nothing that hinders the Champions from competing fairly.” He offered. 

Cedric nodded, satisfied. Pansy tapped Blaise’s back repeatedly, emphasizing her excitement. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were not as careful with their words as Slytherins were, clearly. Draco’s statement didn’t actually limit his actions much, other than not directly going after a single Champion. Going after all four was a different matter... 

Hermione was smart enough to catch them if she was concentrating, but her brain had already moved on to the information Draco had promised, which was her main priority. “So what is wrong with Harry?” 

Draco held up his hand, smirking. “Bring the cloak here first and then I will tell you.”

Harry reached into his school bag and pulled out the cloak, setting it on the table in front of him. “It’s here. Now tell ‘Mione what you know.” 

Draco’s face settled into his poker face. “Diggory, Luna, Pansy, Greg…step outside for a bit please. Potter and Granger are the only ones who need to hear this, and Blaise will stay to make the number equal. I think we are done here, other than that. Return to your dormitories.”

Granger nodded to Cedric, and so the others did as Draco ordered. Once they had left, Draco began to speak. “Have you heard of the difference between wild and domesticated magic, Granger?” 

Blaise groaned and threw himself onto the sofa a few paces away. “Oh, not this again. It’s Draco’s favorite rant.” 

Granger pursed her lips. “No, I can’t say that I have.” 

Draco gave her a basic summary, as he had given Charlie before. “Potter’s problem has two parts, really: there is a lack of discipline that breaks down his control, as well as a large amount of wild magic gathering around that chaotic control. Wild magic is chaos, and so it is drawn, in some way, to chaos.” He crossed his arms over his chest, taking time to arrange the words in his head before he spoke them. “Think of it this way: a moth drawn to the flame. The moth is the magic; the flame is Potter. Potter is like a beacon to the chaos. In order to fix it, you have to fix the power leak. Either work off the extra magic, store it, or keep it in check, which you seem to be failing at. Strong wizards, when younger, often have the same problem to a much lesser degree. That’s what accidental magic is the result of. Take into account that Potter is a strong wizard and has some relation to Voldemort, and it makes sense that there is such a strong difference.” 

Harry pushed the cloak across the table to Draco, who caught it with a smirk. “As we agreed, Malfoy. Return it properly, as our terms were.” 

Draco sneered back. “A Malfoy conducts himself with honor regarding business, Potter. Rest assured.” He stood, turning to Blaise. The other boy stood, smiling at the success, and unknowingly clapped Draco on his upper back in celebration. 

White-hot fire shot through Draco’s body. He held back a scream, just barely, but a strangled sound escaped from his lips in its place. Three pairs of eyes shot to the Malfoy heir’s face. Blaise knew right away what was wrong, and the glint in Granger’s eye was evidence of her suspicion. Potter just looked confused. “Malfoy? Is something wrong?” 

Blaise swore vehemently, causing the Gryffindor’s eyebrows to shoot up in affront and mortification. “You bastard. You fucking bastard! Why didn’t you say anything, you wanker? Shite!” He dragged Granger and Potter out the door, ignoring their questions. “We’re done here!” he snapped at the two Gryffindors. “Fuck off!” Slamming the door closed, he ran his hands through his hair in stress. “I can’t believe you.” Tugging the clothes Draco wore in his anger, he growled. “Get this off, now. Damn it, you bloody idiot…” 

Draco’s lips twitched into a smile. “Language, Blaise.” He teased his friend, before casting a silencing spell just in case the two nosy Gryffindors tried to listen from outside. 

The Italian boy bared his teeth in response. “You think this is funny, Draco? Because I am not fucking laughing!” 

Draco raised his hands in mock self-defense, slowly shrugging out of his clothes with a wince. The wounds had reopened at Blaise’s casual touch, and blood seeped through his white collared shirt and the bandages, which he peeled off. “You asked for it.” He reminded the Italian boy when Blaise gasped at the sight of Draco’s whip-scarred back. 

“Shite, Drake! Your father is a sick bastard.” Blaise pulled his wand from his sleeve and cast a healing spell, which closed the wounds. He grabbed a pillow from the sofa and Transfigured it into cloth, which he tore. With one part he dabbed the blood away from the wounds, and with another part he re-bandaged the long, deep cuts. 

Draco allowed Blaise to take care of his injuries in silence, regretting not saying anything before because now Blaise was majorly pissed off. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t want you guys to feel like the plans needed to change. It will be healed by the time I need to fly during the Third Task.” 

Blaise gritted his teeth, trying not to take his anger out on Draco. “Look, Draco, I am not going to get angry or try to change the plans. They have to happen regardless of how stupid we feel you are being. However, I do take offense at you not trusting me with this. As your best friend, this is the kind of thing I need to know in order to help you. I can’t believe that you of all people could be such a hypocrite.”   
Draco wilted a bit; he had always been a poor friend and he knew it. He was lucky to have so many great people to watch his back and let him know when he screwed up. “You’re right, and I’m sorry. You know how hard it is to talk about weaknesses for someone in a family like mine…” he trailed off, quickly looking away from the bloodied cloth Blaise had set down on the table. He hated the reminder of his father’s deeds. Gathering himself back together, he straightened his posture and met Blaise’s dark eyes, his own gaze steel grey and determined. “I would prefer if you kept this to yourself, Blaise. With your help we can take care of this safely.”

“And the scars?’ Blaise pressed. “You know someone else will see them eventually. Don’t be a fucking idiot.” 

Draco laughed, but there was no amusement in his tone. “It won’t be the first scar, Blaise. The others will be mad if they find out, but not surprised. Purebloods know they come with the territory.” Charlie’s face popped into his mind, and his smile dimmed a little. “Well, most Purebloods.” He amended quietly, suddenly feeling small. 

Blaise sensed the direction of his thoughts. “There are things Weasley will never understand.” He muttered, waving his wand to burn away the dirtied cloth and all physical evidence of Draco’s wounds. He stared at Draco, a very intense look in his eyes. “That is why you need me. And Pansy, and Theodore. We get it, so don’t feel like you have to hide things like this from us.” He grumbled a few uncomplimentary things about Draco’s stubbornness under his breath. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you when the others find out and want to strangle you for being a moron.” 

Draco looked down at his feet, unable to respond to that. He knew Blaise was right, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to the Slytherins, either. The Malfoy heir cast a cleaning spell on his shirt, getting the blood out of it, and pulled it back on, buttoning it securely. “Thank you, Blaise. I am sorry to have disappointed you.” He hefted the Invisibility Cloak into his arms: it was surprisingly heavy. No doubt the cloth was very thick and durable. “Now shall we try this thing out?” a mischievous look crossed the Malfoy heir’s face, making him look very boyish and several years younger than his age.   
A laugh bubbled from Blaise’s throat, despite his still present concern for Draco’s health. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

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After the day’s classes, Draco found himself milling about, unsure what to do with himself. Tomorrow was the last full day he had before the Third Task, and the tension was eating him alive. Absentmindedly, he paced back and forth across the Common Room floor, ignoring the pull in his back from the reopened wounds. Blaise, Theo, Greg, and Pansy watched him as they lounged across the sofas. 

“Calm down, Draco. You’re going to wear a hole in the floor with all that pacing.” Pansy commented mildly, not seeming very concerned. 

Draco didn’t even seem to hear her, but suddenly he ground to a halt. “Diggory. I need to talk to Diggory.” He mumbled to himself, before turning on his heel and striding quickly from the dungeon. 

Exchanging looks with the other Slytherins, Theo scrambled up and after Draco, playing bodyguard. “Cedric Diggory? What do you need him for?” 

Draco didn’t pause, still keeping up his quick walking pace. “He wants more information. So I’ll give him some. I need his peacemaking aptitude if I want to keep Potter’s attention elsewhere. Otherwise, he will keep trying to fight with me. It is a waste of both our time and energy, and it needs to stop. He won’t listen to someone telling him that unless they are clearly uninfluenced by me.” 

Theo rolled his eyes but kept up with Draco’s speed. “If you say so, mate. Just be careful how much you tell him.” 

Draco smiled slightly as he walked, lost in thought. “The important part about revealing personal clues is that you reveal the same thing to everyone, but make them think it is new information. That way, everyone who thinks they have inside information knows precisely the same few harmless facts.” 

Theo shook his head in admiration. “You Malfoys do have the head for this kind of thing. Practically raised in it since birth, there isn’t really a way you could be poor at manipulation. Still, it is pretty frightening. I am glad that there will never come a time that I am your enemy.” 

Draco’s heart jumped in his chest in shock at the sudden words that he perceived as incredibly sappy...for a Slytherin. “Theodore!” he complained, whirling to regard his friend with no little amusement. “Since when did you become so touchy-feely? I would have never guessed you had this sensitive side in you.” 

Theo gave him the middle finger and grumbled, “Shut up, you git.” 

Draco just snickered and turned back around, continuing on towards the Hufflepuff dormitories. “Shall we hold hands and skip up to meet Diggory?” he continued to tease Theo.

Theo eyed Draco in annoyance, sniping back, “Sorry, Drake, you’re not exactly my type. Too dramatic, and definitely too annoying.” 

Draco smirked back. “I am certainly too pretty, as well.” It was well-known in Slytherin that Theo was openly gay and not ashamed of his preferences whatsoever, despite the stigma against same sex couples still present in the Wizarding world. 

“Very humble of you.” Theo rolled his eyes. “You do remember that I went to the Yule Ball with Fleur, yes? She is certainly prettier than you.” 

Draco couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Fleur only went with you because she knew you had no intention of putting the moves on her.” With a devilish smile, he elbowed Theo in the side. “I have no such guarantee.” 

Theo wrinkled his nose. “No way in hell would I ever date you, mate. That’s disgusting.”

Draco grinned, glad for the lighthearted back and forth. “The feeling is mutual.” He assured his friend. “Now, I hope this bout of sentimentality that came out of nowhere is sufficiently expended?”   
Theo grunted. “See if I try to say something nice ever again, if this is what comes of it.” But his tone was light and amused. They arrived outside the dormitory and Theo poked his head inside after assuring the painting that he was only calling someone out to the hallway. “Someone send out Diggory, would you?” he called. 

The Hufflepuffs, being terrified of the older Slytherins, scrambled to obey. Five minutes later Cedric was outside, looking surprised to see Draco. “Malfoy…what are you doing here?” he asked politely.   
Draco jerked his head away from the dormitories, indicating that he wished to talk elsewhere. “I wanted to propose an exchange.” He began vaguely, wanting to ensure that the other Hufflepuffs heard nothing important. 

When they were a safe distance away, he continued, “I want you to keep Potter off my back. I am not doing anything that he needs to be concerned about and he is wasting time fighting with me when he should be much more concerned with the Death Eaters.” And the resurrection of Voldemort. 

“Let’s say I agree. How do I know that you won’t go off and do something terrible, just because Harry is finally convinced you aren’t all that bad?” Cedric, knowing the existence of Draco’s visions, was more willing to see him as someone “light.” He had never heard of a dark wizard that had Divination abilities. 

“To be fair, there is no guarantee. Let’s just think back over all the other years I have been at Hogwarts, shall we? Was there honestly anything I did that was actually bordering on evil? Or was it just annoying and self-righteous, just like you would expect a Malfoy to behave?” Draco’s lips twitched in slight amusement. “I am a Malfoy, and until it is advantageous to me to behave otherwise, I continue to act as others expect me to. Surely a Pureblood such as yourself would realize the importance of social masks, not to mention the prevalence. If people see what they expect to see, they don’t look deeper. It is a useful tool.”

Cedric acknowledged Draco’s point. “There is nothing you have done that was truly awful, I will grant you that. However, you also haven’t done anything that inspires trustworthiness, either.” 

Draco snorted, but somehow the sound managed to be elegant. “I don’t want to inspire trustworthiness. People who are trusted are noticed. It is much better for me remain inconspicuous, I get into less trouble that way. It is the same with this Potter situation. Why don’t you lot understand that I just want to fly under the radar and be a typical snotty Pureblood heir?”

Cedric frowned. “I am beginning to understand that. What concerns me is that I don’t understand why.” 

Exasperated, Draco threw his hands up to demonstrate his frustration. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Diggory? Merlin! Nearly every Seer throughout history eventually ended up being killed because other wizards wanted to use their power. After somehow cornering the Seer, power-hungry wizards discover that the power is not really easily obtained or controlled, and decide to get rid of the Seer instead. It happened over and over. Attention will get me killed. Do you want to be the cause of my death? Do you think Potter would? Need I remind you that my Father was once involved with Death Eaters?” While every pore of his being leaked frustration and desperation for Cedric’s benefit and his words were technically true, Draco was careful not to reveal the full truth. In all aspects it genuinely appeared that Draco feared for his life. 

Cedric Diggory could not sense any deception from the Slytherin Ice Prince. “I understand now. So what is it exactly that you think I can help with? Harry and I aren’t really close, you know.” 

Draco waved off the question, annoyed. “It doesn’t matter. Potter is easily influenced as long as he doesn’t have something against you. In your case he has no reason to mistrust you, so he won’t. All you have to do is redirect his focus a little bit, try to bridge the gap between what he thinks he is seeing and what I actually intend. I have heard rumors that you are interested in becoming a wizard counselor or therapist. Think of it as good experience for your future career. Potter will be better off when he isn’t constantly assuming I am up to no good and leaping in to save the day.” Rubbing his forehead wearily, the young Slytherin muttered, “It will save me a headache too. Damn hero complex…” 

Cedric’s lips twitched. He would have never guessed Draco would have this side, he almost seemed…human. As soon as the thought crossed his mind he inwardly berated himself. What kind of psychologist would he be if judgment was his first response to those inching toward the darker side of magic? Draco was a teenage boy, younger than Cedric himself was. To judge him based on the actions of Lucius Malfoy was unfair, and Cedric resolved then to do better. To be better, and not to assume he knew someone based on their reputation. “Deal. I think you’re right, and for what it’s worth, I apologize for assuming I knew what you were like based on what other people say about you. That was unfair of me.” 

Draco’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Diggory to be so reasonable. “Thanks, I suppose. Well, well. This was more productive than I expected.” He appraised Cedric in a calculating manner, grey eyes thoughtful. 

Cedric couldn’t hold back a smile, happy to have surprised the Malfoy heir. “You know, I am always available if there is anything, anything at all, that you want to talk about.” He ventured, hoping he wasn’t being too pushy. 

Draco actually laughed out loud at that, and Theo’s snickers sounded from behind them. “Why, Diggory…are you offering to be my personal therapist?” His tone was of wicked delight, finding the notion terribly amusing. 

“That’s exactly what I am saying.” Cedric agreed cheerfully, not seeming to notice that Draco had been joking. 

Put off by the unexpected agreement, Draco blinked in shock for a few moments before regaining his composure. “How intriguing.” He finally managed. Theo’s snickers behind him increased in volume, so Draco silenced him with a thrown elbow. A muffled grunt replaced the snickering sound. 

Cedric tried to placate him. “I admit the idea seems crazy, but I just wanted to offer. If you ever need someone to just talk things through with, you know where to find me.” He watched Draco’s eyes carefully, trying to determine Draco’s true reaction. 

A flash of amusement and approval were the only emotions Cedric was able to note. The Hufflepuff sighed to himself at the lack of facial expression Draco allowed. “Thank you for the offer, but our business is concluded for now.” Draco stated calmly. A wry smile quirked up Draco’s lips, and he added, “I think psychology is a suitable field for you.” The look lent a boyish air to the normally stoic Slytherin. 

Cedric simply smiled in return and went back into his dormitory, waving goodbye over his shoulder. 

Theo dissolved into a flurry of giggles, ignoring Draco’s poisonous glare. “You have a therapist now!” he got out between his peals of laughter. 

“Laugh it up while you can, Theo. You’re next.” Draco’s eyes promised painful retribution. 

Theo just grinned and wiped tears of laughter away from the corner of his eyes. “Too good!” He exclaimed. “I think I like that one. He’s got balls for a Hufflepuff. Handsome, too.” Suddenly he paused and cocked his head pensively. “You know, Draco, I didn’t even think about it until this moment, but you sure do surround yourself with attractive people. Me, Pansy, Blaise, Fleur, Viktor, Diggory, even that Weasley of yours. Greg is getting there, too, the more he works out. Looking at the guy to girl ratio…my odds are good.” He smirked at Draco. 

Draco rolled his eyes. “If you say so. Besides…” he looked down his nose at Theodore, “why would I be friends with someone who isn’t attractive?” his eyes revealed his jest and he gave a snobbish sniff. 

The two Slytherins returned to their own Common Room, where the rest of their friend group was still sitting in the same area chatting and doing homework. 

Blaise was the first to notice their entrance. “How did it go?” 

Theo plopped onto the couch, nearly launching Pansy in the air. “You know Drake. He can talk anyone into anything.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that. But yes, I was successful. Diggory will do his best to get Potter off my back. Which will probably mean you guys can stop watching him so closely as well.” He glanced at Greg. “Tomorrow is a Hogsmeade day, right?” 

The bulky boy nodded. “That’s right. Do you want me to do something there?” 

Draco considered it. “I am not sure yet, I will have to think on it. If we could plan out what supplies we need and get them without being too conspicuous, that would be lovely.” 

Pansy smirked. “Such a quintessential British chap.” She teased Draco about his vocabulary. The aristocratic Malfoy rolled his eyes. “If you say so.” He answered noncommittedly. 

Casting a quick _Tempus_ charm, Draco saw that the time was around eight pm. “I am going to get an early start on a project in the dormitory. Don’t come in unless you want to sleep; I can’t afford the distraction.” He waved and disappeared into the dormitory, an absent look in his eyes. 

The rest watched him go with amusement. “Guess we won’t see him until tomorrow.” Pansy shook her head in exasperation. Turning to Theo, she asked him, “What did you do for the Transfiguration essay?”

When the boys entered into the dormitory that night and went to sleep, Draco’s wand was still illuminated as he pored over a huge tome of what look like a foreign language. They didn’t wait up and fell into their beds, quickly falling asleep.


	10. Risky Business

After breakfast on the last day before the Third Task, Draco headed to Snape’s office for a quick word before the Hogsmeade trip. Pansy, Blaise, Theo, and Greg waited in the Common Room, knowing Draco would be safe through the short distance between the dormitories and Severus’s office. 

With a knock, Draco pushed his way inside. Snape was bent over a cauldron, and didn’t glance up when his godson entered. “Yes?” His voice was terse, probably because he was concentrating on the potion. 

Draco moved to assist him with the brew. “How would I go about obtaining an unregistered wand?” 

Snape’s hand nearly jerked at the unexpected question, but he recovered quickly enough. “Although I am surprised to hear you ask, I realize I shouldn’t be. It is a wise idea for someone in your situation to seek ways around the law.” He glanced at an hourglass in the corner, in which sand was slowly trickling downwards. “Give me four minutes to finish up this stage in the potion, and then we can discuss your options.” 

Draco obliged, following Severus’s instructions in order to correctly prepare the potion. 

When they had finished, Snape moved to his desk, rummaging around for a quill and some blank parchment. “Ollivander would sell you another wand, but he would also remember exactly who he sold it to, which could get you in trouble later. There are many wand dealers of less…reputable means, but I wouldn’t trust most of them not to sell you out. There is one last option, which should be safe.” The Potions professor scribbled down something on paper before turning and placing it in Draco’s hand. “Go to this address; they should be able to help you. And for god’s sake, Draco, don’t get caught. The penalties will be steep for someone as mistrusted as your family is.” 

“Thanks, Sev.” Draco gifted his godfather with one of his rare bright smiles. “See you this evening.” All those involved in Draco’s schemes had agreed to meet later in the evening to finalize all plans for the Tournament. 

Snape rolled his eyes and turned away, but not in time to hide the tiny quirk of a smile on his lips. 

Draco left the office with a wave and returned to the Slytherin dormitories, where his friends waited. The scrap of paper from Severus was tucked carefully away into his robes. His housemates greeted him warmly as he entered, and after a few minutes they all left together, heading outside to the castle grounds, where all the other students waited. 

Draco caught Luna’s eyes and gave her a smile. Cedric, to the young Malfoy’s surprise, also waved in a friendly manner. Draco nodded neutrally in return. 

Within a few minutes, all the students who intended to go out of the grounds had gathered, and the professors allowed them to head into the small town. Draco was careful to stay away from Potter’s group. Charlie’s brother Ron was especially sulky, glaring at Draco for much longer than warranted.

Pansy elbowed Draco gently in the side, jarring his attention to her. “What do you need to buy?” She asked him quizzically. “We might need to split up to finish everything.” Behind her, Blaise was nodding emphatically, mouthing something like, Women. Shopping. 

Draco held back a smirk before answering honestly. “I have a few errands to run with Greg. I need books, potions, an item with Runes, and something highly illegal.”

Theo made a choked noise in his surprise. “I don’t want to know!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands over his ears overdramatically. 

Greg grinned at the Nott heir patronizingly. “Don’t worry; we’ll spare your virgin ears.” 

Blaise rolled his eyes. “No quarreling, children. Here’s the plan, then: I will go with Theo and Pansy, and Goyle and Draco can go do their shady business. Then when Pansy gets lost in the robes shop, Theodore and I can move on. We will meet back up by Flourish and Blots at half past noon, unless otherwise occupied.” The Italian boy looked pointedly at Draco, who smirked back. The group knew Draco planned to meet up with Charlie, who would be unable to attend the planned meeting tonight. 

The housemates all agreed to Blaise’s plan, and went their separate ways with cheerful farewells. Goyle turned to Draco expectantly. “Where to?” he questioned. 

Draco went through his mental checklist. “Knockturn Alley. I need an anti-scrying amulet.” 

The larger boy frowned at his friend. “For what purpose? Those are somewhat useless.”

Draco folded up his robe sleeves aristocratically. “My mother has always had a talent for scrying. I am sure my father will enlist her services, and I would rather have my moves remain a mystery.” 

Greg stepped in front of Draco, forcing him to stop or run into a broad chest. He met Draco’s grey eyes seriously. “I thought you were on relatively good terms with your mother?” 

Draco’s face closed off. “Not anymore.” Was the only response he offered. 

Goyle accepted it with no further questions. “A scrying amulet, it is.” They entered a shop at random and asked the owner who might have such an object. Two shops later, Draco found what he was looking for. Ugly as the piece was, it would serve his purposes. He placed it around his neck and under his shirt so as to hide it. From there, the two friends continued on to the Potions shop, where Draco picked out a kit of potions: Blood Replenishing, Pepper-Up, Healing, Strengthening, Invigorating, and practically every other potion that might assist him or his allies in a duel with Death Eaters. Shrinking the kit and stowing it in his pocket, Draco moved on to the bookstore with Greg in tow. 

There was a certain rare tome called Architecture of Magick that he was looking for. He heard mention of the volume in several texts concerning Seers. The book had to be ancient, based on his difficulty in finding it. After speaking with the owner and staking a claim on the next copy available, Draco considered that errand complete. Checking the time, he found he had about two hours left before his arranged meeting with Charlie Weasley. Time to get the illegal item, then. 

Pulling the scrap of paper from his robe pocket, Draco returned to Knockturn Alley and found the shop listed, one Clara’s Curios. Stepping inside, the Malfoy heir was not surprised to encounter a woman, likely Clara. She had short black hair and sharp blue eyes. Stepping up to the counter, he gave her a pleasant smile. “Good morning.” He greeted. 

The woman returned the greeting. “Morning, young Malfoy. I am Clara, the owner of this shop. I actually went to Hogwarts the same year as your friend Charlie. Tell him ‘hi’ for me, will you? Now, what can I do for you?” Like many of the shop owners in Knockturn Alley, the Malfoy name was respected rather than scorned here. 

Draco got straight to the point. While Greg wandered about the shop, Draco folded his hands elegantly on top of the counter. “I am in need of an unregistered wand. My godfather recommended I visit you here because you could be trusted with this request.” 

Clara smiled. “Your godfather is correct. Let me see what we have in stock that will suit your needs. Come this way, please.” She stepped out from behind the counter and gestured the two friends into a back room. 

There were perhaps twenty-five to thirty-five wands hanging on one wall, which was where Clara led them. “The wands are organized alphabetically by wood type. I would suggest starting with the same wood as your current wand, and working your way from there. Feel free to wave them around and see how they work for you. The room is warded against damage.”

Draco did as she told him. He slowly worked his way through all the wands, as only the best one would do. There were three wands that worked fairly well by the time he had tested them all. 

There was one, however, that definitely stood out. Draco held out the silver-colored wand to Clara, who smiled knowingly. “Interesting choice. Eleven inches long. Made of silver lime wood, with a White River monster spine core.” She peered into Draco’s eyes, as if seeing something more. “An elegant if mysterious combination, and quite rare. Force and elegance as a pair, implying a great fortitude. The core is rare and only chooses a wielder who is both powerful and controlled. Silver lime wood is rumored to have a connection to Legilimency. You take after your godfather, young Malfoy.” 

With a private smile, Draco mused to himself that silver lime wood purportedly had a connection to Seers as well. “How much?” he asked calmly. Greg was giving him an impressed look, which Draco ignored. 

Clara thought for a moment. “This wand has been with my family for generations, and you are the first wielder it has chosen. Fifteen galleons will be sufficient for the wand and my silence.” 

Twice the price of a legal wand plus a little extra. Draco passed the coins over to her willingly; it was a fair deal. He shook her hand with a smile. “Pleasure doing business with you. Your reputation is well-earned.” Tucking the newly purchased wand away into his robe pockets (which had been magically enlarged and deepened), Draco motioned Greg out of the shop and they left. 

Goyle immediately began to chatter. “You know, Draco, I think that wand is more suited for you than the one you got from Ollivander.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “Likely it is. Ollivander has no love for my family. Not to mention, most of the wands that would suit me are probably ‘dark’ so he refuses to supply them.” Glancing at his watch, he marveled at how long the task had taken. “I am supposed to meet Charlie in half an hour at the patisserie near the Potions shop. Let’s go there, and you can leave me and join the rest at Flourish and Blotts.” He knew Greg would not leave him unless there was someone else there to “watch” him. The bulky boy agreed and they walked over to the small French bakery. 

Charlie was already there, sipping coffee and leaning back in his seat. He waved when Draco approached, and Greg peeled off and left the small bakery to meet the other Slytherins. 

As Draco slid gracefully into the padded chair across from Charlie, the older boy smiled wryly. “This isn’t a typical place for a meeting. I looked at the menu but it was all gibberish to me. Too high-class, I suppose?” he winked at Draco. 

Draco’s eyebrows lifted in a sardonic manner, and he replied simply, “Clara says hi.” He waved the manager over. In perfect French, he ordered a meal for them both, to which the manager responded in delight. They exchanged pleasantries, but Charlie was unable to do anything but stare, flabbergasted. He had no idea Draco spoke French, and the beautiful language coming from his friend’s lips caused a shiver to run down his spine. 

A few minutes later, the conversation ceased and the manager disappeared into the back to prepare their order. Charlie immediately questioned Draco. “You speak French? And how did you run into Clara?” 

Crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, Draco smirked. “I am French, to be more precise. Malfoi, bad faith: my last name is French, although the spelling was changed by mistake some years back. I was born in France, though my family owns property in England as well. Also, I just visited Clara’s shop before I came here.” 

Charlie blinked in surprise; he had never known Draco and his family were foreigners. “I had no idea.” He stated finally. “You don’t have an accent.” 

Draco chuckled. “I did learn English in London, so I am not surprised you can’t detect my accent.” A waiter appeared with a drink for Draco, a dark roast coffee by the look of it. He took it with a polite nod and laced his fingers together around the mug. Lowering his voice, he began, “Most of the details of our plan have been discussed, but there are a few more things I would like your input on. No specifics, since we are in a public place. After swiping the Cup, what is our next course of action?”

Charlie sobered at the reminder of their true purpose for meeting. “We gather as many people who are good at dueling as possible, then touch the cup together. That’s the best option I can think of, at least. They will only be expecting one Champion, so numbers and surprise will tip the scales in our favor.” 

Draco nodded, considering Charlie’s words. “And how do we decide how is ‘good’ at dueling?” 

The Dragon Tamer smiled at Draco. “I trust your judgment in the people you are acquainted with. I also think the twins should be included…they are very inventive with jinxes and curses and can make a nuisance of themselves. Obviously Snape will not be able to assist you, and maybe some of the other Slytherins cannot either...” he paused, looking to Draco for confirmation, and the blonde boy nodded soberly. 

“Theo and Greg are probably out for this one…they need to be subtler about their opposition. Pansy isn’t a strong duelist, so it would probably be best for her to stay behind. That leaves Blaise. Lovegood would agree to come, likely, but I am not sure what the extent of her skills are. Fleur is willing to help. Then there is you, your brothers, Viktor…possibly eight people. We need more.” Draco sighed, rubbing the creases in his forehead tiredly. 

Charlie smiled reassuringly at Draco. “I think I can get Bill to join us, and he is very skilled in duels and defensive spells. And…what about Harry? If he came along, Hermione and Ron would be sure to follow.” 

Draco immediately disagreed. “If Potter gets involved, Diggory will, too. If Diggory gets involved, he will die, and everything will go to shite.” 

Charlie acquiesced. “That’s fair. Nine will have to be enough, then. Unless I can get Harry to agree to leave Cedric out, anyways.” 

Draco nodded. “I suppose so. I acquired a potions kit for the fight, and some minor precautions to safeguard myself after the news blows up what happens.” 

Concern filled Charlie’s expression all of a sudden. “Nothing illegal, I hope. Draco, what will you do after this? Where will you live, and by what means?” 

Draco’s grey eyes flickered to Charlie’s worried blue with no little amusement. “Char, I have reminded you many times, but I don’t think you realize the magnitude of my family’s wealth. I have been skimming some off the top of the accounts for years, and the sum is paltry enough for my father not to question me. However, what is paltry by my father’s standards is wealthy to anyone else. I have a comfortable amount to live on for many years, not to mention my own property, a small cottage in southwestern England. I have already asked Snape to place some wards up after the Tournament ends, so I will not be bothered there.” With a small, self-deprecating twist of his lips, he added drolly, “I may not be as much of a bastard as my father, but I am still used to the comforts of a certain lifestyle. I doubt I would have the courage to do this with no stable place to stand on my own.” 

Their food arrived then, and Draco exchanged some more conversation in French with the excited manager, who was apparently the son of the owner, Charlie learned later. He watched the two interact, still a bit entranced by the novelty of hearing Draco speaking in French. Although Charlie didn’t understand French, by the body language he could sort of guess at what was happening. Certainly, the manager was much more friendly and interested in Draco than what was typical. 

When Draco shook his head and gave the manager a gracious smile, Charlie suspected the younger blonde had just been flirted with or propositioned in some manner. As soon as the manager disappeared, Charlie laughed a little. “Did he just ask for your contact information?” 

Draco nodded, not seeming very embarrassed. “It happens quite often.” He stated factually, with no pride. “Having a wealthy family attracts a lot of gold-diggers.” 

Charlie smirked. “I think it had less to do with your money and more to do with your nationality and looks. But aren’t you a little young for him?” 

Draco gave a small smile back and shrugged uncaringly, as if he could care less. “I ordered you a meal and a pastry. I am sure you will enjoy it.” 

Charlie looked suspiciously at the food, but tried it and found it to his liking. The bread was especially delicious, and the bite he sampled of the pastry was heavenly. “You have good taste. Hopefully your taste is not too expensive for my wallet.” 

Draco waved his concerns away. “I will get the check. It was my idea to meet here, after all.” 

Charlie hesitated, but acquiesced with a nod eventually. Draco had said his family was more loaded than Charlie could imagine, and his reasoning was sound. 

The two young men made quick work of their meals and savored their dessert of chocolate croissants. After the food was set aside, they returned to business. This time the discussion centered around the logistics of what would happen after the Tournament ended. 

“You know the media will have something to say, and will certainly put some negative spin on whatever events occur. I will be painted as a villain, because a Malfoy is everyone’s favorite villain. We need a way to debase their rumors and hearsay; some tangible proof.” 

Charlie rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “As much as it galls me to consider this, what if we had Pansy tag along under the Invisibility Cloak and take photos? They couldn’t deny that as proof, if there were enough. If she stayed out of the danger zone it could be a viable strategy. You could contact the reporter we spoke to before. He owes you one, anyways.” 

Draco made a face, which was so childish and out of his typical character that Charlie burst out laughing. “Not a fan of Roy?” Charlie snickered. 

“The man makes me cringe.” Draco rolled his eyes, not enjoying Charlie’s joke. “That does seem like our best option, however, so I will resign myself to it with reluctance. What about you?” When Charlie looked confused, Draco elaborated. “You will need to return to Romania, yes? After the Tournament ends?” his voice was composed but there was a small shadow in his eyes that Charlie was unsure how to interpret. 

“I have to go back, yes. Otherwise I will lose a job I love very much.” The thought of leaving Hogwarts saddened Charlie somehow. He didn’t realize he had grown so fond of Draco until the thought of leaving caused sharp pangs of sadness in that moment. 

Silver eyes, the color of storm clouds, noticed everything Charlie was thinking because his thoughts were so plain on his face. However, the younger man didn’t comment upon the sentimentality. Charlie took that as a sign: in some small way, Draco was sad they would be parting soon as well. He wasn’t allowed to dwell on that thought long, though, before Draco changed the subject. “I never asked you before, but did your family bother you after the newspaper article came out? You were so concerned with me that I didn’t think about what issues it might cause you.”   
Charlie smiled warmly at the younger blonde. “They were concerned, of course. Our fathers hate each other’s guts. But I don’t live at home any longer, and they don’t have control over my actions. They love me and they love Ron, but they also know we both have our own faults. Ron especially is quite prone to irrational anger when he feels he has been looked down upon. The fact that you assisted Harry, as well as went against your father, is enough to ensure they will give you a chance.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. “A chance to do what, exactly?” 

Charlie snorted. “A chance to prove you aren’t an evil bastard?” 

A smug look spread slowly across Draco’s face, a look that would not be out of place on the face of a wolf. “Oh, but I am an evil bastard.” He assured Charlie, with a mocking twist of his lips. “I am simply not a stupid one. I know how to pick the winning side. Don’t try to paint me as one of the good guys. It will end badly.” 

Charlie couldn’t repress the shiver that went down his spine. It was times like these when a warning flag of SLYTHERIN went up on Charlie’s head. No matter how much he liked Draco, he also couldn’t forget Draco was not exactly nice. However, Charlie was drawn towards the unpredictability and danger that Slytherins were well-known for thriving in, despite being a Gryffindor at heart. “That may be true, but you can certainly act like you are completely innocent. Once you make a good first impression, they will like you, I’m certain. Maybe you will even come to like them.” 

Draco lazily leaned back. “You want me to lie to your family? Why, Charlie, I am shocked. A saintly Gryffindor, telling little old me to lie to law-abiding citizens.” His eyes widened in mock-surprise.   
Charlie gave him a slow smile. “I am certainly no saintly Gryffindor.” 

Draco’s eyes sparkled with mirth, but he pushed aside the banter and grew serious. “I may have allowed you certain liberties, Weasley, but know there are some things about me that you will never understand, no matter how hard you try. I am not a Gryffindor, nor will I ever engage in hero-like activities. I am doing this to save my own skin, nothing more.” 

Charlie chuckled. “Say that all you want, but I know your bark is stronger than your bite. Well, unless I actually piss you off.” He gave the younger blonde a goofy smile. “Which would be a reeeeeally bad idea.” 

Draco snorted. “You may not be a saintly Gryffindor, but you certainly naïve like a Gryffindor.” He gave Charlie a suspicious look and peered into his eyes, trying to read something there. It seemed as if he found it, for he moved away with a sigh and dropped back into his seat. “You really have no idea how Slytherins work, do you?” Rubbing his forehead, he said nothing more. 

Charlie warily trained his eyes on Draco. “You going to explain that?” 

Draco hummed. “I doubt I could if I tried.” He smirked with no little amusement. 

Charlie shook his head, unable to understand. “I’m sorry,” he snarked. “But how am I supposed to understand if you don’t enlighten me about what just happened? 

A mockingly superior look took over Draco’s features. “It’s like trying to explain Earth’s gravity to someone who lives in space. The rules don’t apply to you, so you won’t understand the explanation.” His tone was pompous, but his eyes held laughter.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Charlie finally asked, trying to read anything from Draco’s face. 

The Malfoy’s face was fairly blank as usual, however. “No. I think it would be best if I left now.” Leaving some galleons on the table to cover the cost of their meal, the young Pureblood stood stiffly but with grace. “It was a pleasure.” He said gallantly, before turning and striding out of the patisserie. 

Charlie watched him go with a smile, shaking his head. Being around Draco made him feel old and young simultaneously. 

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Draco was surprised that his good mood (and good luck) had lasted for so long, but somehow he got the feeling that he would pay for his good day come tomorrow. Serves me right for having high expectations, Draco mused to himself. Obviously something will happen to screw up my plans. Inwardly, he knew he was ridiculous for being so pessimistic.

Because Draco had grown up in a perfectionist environment, he had often become disillusioned with himself and his own abilities. Nothing he did or had done was ever good enough for his father’s high expectations, and trying to become an individual in such an atmosphere was stifling. Because he had been within that environment for such a long time, he was prone to doubt himself. 

Not to mention, he subconsciously held to the principle that someone who tried to change him was an enemy. 

The Malfoy heir ducked into a nearby café to grab a cup of tea and cool his head, not ready to return to a dorm full of people just yet. 

As soon as he saw who was inside the café, he cursed his rotten luck. The Golden Trio was huddled over various beverages, and at Draco’s entrance they immediately took notice. Despite Draco’s efforts to slip into a quiet corner, the three approached his table. 

To his surprise, Weasley did not blow up or try to rile him, but was conspicuously silent. Potter, as well, seemed mysteriously subdued. Draco regarded them with suspicion. “What is it? I wasn’t looking for company.” 

Granger plowed right in. “You’re injured. That is a fact, and in combination with the recent news article, I can only think the worst. Someone didn’t much like your peacemaking with Charlie.” 

Draco immediately gave her a scowl. “Even if I was injured, it is none of your business. Piss off; you never cared about me before, so don’t pretend to now. I am not your friend, nor am I on your ‘side.’” 

Harry Potter put a hand on Hermione’s arm, halting the response she was about to spew out. He spoke softly and coaxingly. “We can help you, Malfoy. We don’t have to be enemies, even if we aren’t friends.” 

The Slytherin only sneered in response. “What happened to me having ‘no morals, no loyalty, and no courage?’” He quoted Harry’s words from the day in the Owlery back at the Boy-Who-Lived. “Go save someone else who gives a fuck, Saint Potter.” He turned his attention back to the tea and ignored the three Gryffindors hovering awkwardly at his table. “Tosser. Okay, fine. Talk to Charlie, he might be able to convince you not to be complete idiots.” He muttered under his breath, tired of seeing Potter’s face. 

Granger tried again. “Whoever hurt you did something illegal, Malfoy. They should be punished.” 

Draco clenched his teeth, fighting to keep a hold on his already boiling temper. “This is neither the time or the place, Granger. Go away, before you become even more of a nuisance. I already told you, I don’t want or need your help. Ask Charlie.” He met Granger’s eyes, trying to convey his message. 

He could see the moment she understood, as it was written across her face. Draco repressed the urge to roll his eyes. Gryffindors. 

Ron Weasley rolled his eyes. “I am out of here. You tried, mate.” He clapped Harry’s shoulder encouragingly and then glowered at Draco. “Let the git rot.” 

Draco raised his chin fractionally, a proud look in his steely eyes as if daring the other two to contradict their friend. 

Neither Harry or Hermione responded, but they turned and followed Ron out of the café. As they left, Hermione gestured emphatically as she explained what had just happened to her two moronic friends with no subtlety. Draco let out a long sigh of frustration. Dealing with Gryffindors always made him feel strained somehow. Perhaps because they were so oblivious to subtle machinations. 

To cheer himself up, Draco decided to go to Madame Malkins and get himself a new pair of robes. If he continued on the current path, it might be some time before he had the disposable income to buy as high-quality robes as he usually enjoyed. By Draco’s reasoning, he might as well use his father’s blood money for something productive while he was still able. 

The young blonde Slytherin walked over to the bright shop and pushed open the door. Within seconds he was recognized, and one of the more skilled sales clerks began to fuss around and suck up to him. While Draco knew it was necessary to receive better service, he really did not enjoy the politicking and pandering treatment he usually was given. 

After walking through the fabrics, Draco chose a rich slate gray fabric that ‘coincidentally’ matched his eyes and the seamstress came out to take his measurements. As she pinned and prodded, Draco could see outlines of the fine cut the robes, once prepared, would take. It was a good fabric, and the shade complimented Draco’s coloring. 

Despite the rich colors of the Slytherin house, Draco’s personal preference was to dress in basic or muted colors, such as gray, khaki, black, and white. Occasionally he added color, but most of his wardrobe consisted of basic but expensive pieces. 

Paying for his purchase, Draco agreed to the shipping terms: the robes would be delivered in four days’ time to Hogwarts. As he exited the shop, Draco decided to return to Hogwarts instead of trying to discover where his housemates had gathered. As he walked, he could see his own breath in the chilly air, and he shoved his hands deep into his robe pockets. 

It was a pleasant walk. There was not snow on the ground, but the temperatures were cold enough. In the next week, snow was predicted. In a school full of young kids, it was difficult to get time alone sometimes. It was certainly the case for Draco. 

Around this time of year was typically when Draco’s mother would begin to pester him about Christmas, wanting his input for all the preparations and festivities of the season. It would be very strange not to be a part of that this year. After what Draco expected to happen during the Third Task, he knew that he would not be welcomed and indubitably would not be safe if he were to return to Malfoy Manor.   
Although Draco would never call his family warm, there was something very depressing about spending a family-oriented holiday completely alone. Any invitations he received to join other families in celebrations would undoubtedly be pity-driven or require reciprocation that Draco refused to give. The young Malfoy had made up his mind to immediately decline any such offers. 

Perhaps he would get away for a while. Draco had been considering taking a trip to Muggle London, just to familiarize himself with Muggle culture in case of an emergency. If he made his father angry enough, he might not be safe in the small home he planned to live in, as his father was aware of its location and possibly might be able to access it, due to the blood ties. 

It might be wise to have a few options, a small list of Muggle flats he knew were available, for his own safety. Was there anyone he could trust enough to guide him? His mind immediately spun through the possibilities and one person came to mind. 

Tracey Davis was a half-blood who had been raised in the Muggle world. Because of her background, she was ostracized within Slytherin. If Draco gave her some pull and protection, he had a feeling that she would be happy to play tour guide for him. He made a mental note to have Pansy approach her and see how receptive she was to the idea.  
With a self-deprecating smile, the Malfoy heir caught himself. It was his tendency, when upset, to focus his attention on other things which could be solved rather than the emotional mess waiting. The distraction, however, was welcome, so Draco could not bring himself to care about his avoidance of the real issue. He knew it was unhealthy, but keeping up an appearance of perfection was something he had been trained in since birth. 

He was broken out of his thoughts by a rustling in the bushes. Tensing, Draco prepared to draw his wand, but he relaxed and smiled when he saw the cause of the noise.   
Luna Lovegood stepped from the bushes, hair windblown and smile huge. “Hi, Draco Malfoy! The Wrackspurts seem to be congregating around your head. It probably isn’t good for your health to have so many following you.”

Draco reached over a pulled a leaf from her long blonde hair, somehow happy to see the younger Ravenclaw. “Hi, Luna. What are you doing in the bushes?” 

Luna clapped her hands cheerily, remembering why she had come. The whimsical girl reached back inside and pulled out a pretty stone, which she held up in order for Draco to see. “I brought you a present! It is a stone that holds happy thoughts. What did you bring me?” 

Nonplussed, Draco dug in his pockets, searching for something to give Luna. Luckily, he had something. “I brought you a gift, also. The only green leaf on a brown tree.” He handed it over to her, and took the stone she was offering him. 

She looked delighted. “It is a good gift!” she informed him as she took the leaf. “I must go back now to find a Nargle. I hope everything goes smoothly tomorrow, and that you have a good holiday, Dragon.” She skipped away without waiting for him to reply. 

Draco watched her go, somehow feeling a little more jovial. He continued along the path back to Hogwarts, but it still seemed to take more time to go back alone than it had taken to come together with his housemates. Loneliness was like that. 

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Hands slid over skin sinuously, checking the state of the wounds. After the Flashes subsided (bright green eyes and fiery red hair; a beast lunging for his throat, throbbing burning pain) Draco’s amused eyes met Severus’s over his shoulder, watching as his Head of House fussed with the whip injuries Lucius Malfoy had inflicted. He allowed Snape to finish and re-bandage the scabs before he slid away and stretched languidly, trying to demonstrate his ease of movement. “I told you I can manage, Sev. I’m fine.” 

Severus Snape scowled at the young Pureblood, not impressed by his bravado. “If this is fine, I would hate to see your definition of bad. You were lucky, Draco. The wounds weren’t infected, and you came to me before the bleeding was too serious. Don’t be moronic and act like a Gryffindor just because everything has worked out for you so far...you can’t rely on having good luck forever.” 

Draco snorted at the irony of that statement. “If this is good luck, I would hate to see your definition of bad luck.” He parroted Severus’s words back to him with a bold smirk.   
Snape glared and cuffed his head. “Cheeky brat.” But his tone relayed a fondness that his body language did not. “I suppose we will go ahead with the plan then, as it seems that you will survive. If you have enough energy to sass me, you will certainly be okay to fly such a short distance.” 

Draco shrugged his shirt back on, giving the Slytherin Head of House a smirk. “I doubt you could stop me at this point.” The closer they got to the Third Task, the more Draco felt ready. He’d had enough of being a helpless school boy: it was time to do something with the abilities he’d been born with. There was a quiet noise in the background; Blaise had entered the office for the meeting starting shortly.   
Snape had sensed Draco’s growing confidence, and he fixed the boy with a serious look. “Draco.” When his student turned to look at him, Severus continued, “I have faith in you, but you also need to be careful. Death Eaters are ruthless men and women who don’t have much to lose. You, on the other hand…” he trailed off, trusting that Draco would get his meaning. “Just be very cautious. Things are not what they seem.” 

Blaise, overhearing the Potions professor’s words, threw an arm over Draco’s shoulders. “Draco’s pretty badass when he wants to be. Those Death Eaters won’t know what hit them.” 

Draco shoved his arm off and gave him a scornful look. “Don’t be an idiot.” He told Blaise, but there was an amused quirk upturning his lips. “The Death Eaters won’t even know something hit them.” 

Blaise chortled at that. “You are stylish with that new wand of yours.” He agreed easily. 

Snape raised an eyebrow. “So you did procure a spare wand. May I see it?” 

Draco reached into a concealed pocket inside his robe and withdrew the silver wand, dropping it into Severus’s palm obligingly. 

The Potions Professor examined the wand with no little interest. “It is a magnificent wand, perhaps even better suited for you than your wand from Ollivander’s. With your seemingly natural talent at Legilimency, it fits. What is the core crafted from?” 

“White River monster spine, apparently.” Draco responded lightly. “I had never heard of it until today.” 

The Head of Slytherin House blinked in surprise, his eyebrows raising. “It is extremely rare, so it is not unusual for you to have never encountered it. In combination with silver lime wood…. well. Certainly a unique combination.”

Blaise rolled his eyes. “What the hell is a White River monster?” 

Snape gave Blaise an unimpressed look. “It is a species of fish native to the White River. They are extremely difficult to lure, and the only person who is known to be able to entice the monster is Thiago Quintana, an American wandmaker. This wand is of his making.” Severus returned the wand to Draco with a small smile. 

Blaise gave an unamused laugh. “I don’t care about some stupid fish, but what relevance does it have to Draco’s wand?” 

Giving Draco a look which caused the blonde Malfoy to snicker, Snape rolled his eyes and responded to Blaise’s questions impatiently. “I’m no wandmaker. How would I know?” Draco got the feeling Severus was mostly messing with Blaise for personal pleasure. 

Groaning, Blaise threw his hands into the air in exasperation. “Whatever!” His next words were interrupted as the rest of the Slytherins arrived: Pansy, Theo, and Greg all greeted Draco noisily. 

Pansy sidled up to Draco with a grin. “Have a nice date with Charlie?” she teased him. 

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. “Since when were meetings like this considered dates?” 

The Parkinson heiress scowled at his boring response. “You are becoming a Professor Snape clone!” she informed him. 

Draco shrugged, certainly not concerned by that statement. “Okay.” He replied blankly. 

Luna, Fred, and George arrived at that moment, and Viktor came in a few moments later. 

Draco ran over the plans for the Third Task, making sure each person was clear on their role and also on the backup plan. He discussed with the others what he and Charlie had spoken of earlier that day, and everyone agreed that having Pansy document the happenings would be a good thing. 

Reluctantly, Draco even brought up Charlie’s idea to include the Golden Trio. “We need more firepower, so I think we have to try. Most of you can’t risk opposing the Dark Lord openly so soon, and the Boy-Who-Just-Won’t-Die owes me one anyways after that stunt he pulled in the Owlery.” 

The Slytherin’s expressions darkened at the reminder of that incident. “He completely owes you.” Theo agreed forebodingly, cracking his knuckles in a threatening manner. 

Snape cleared his throat pointedly, drawing the attention of the group. “There is something else we have not discussed yet.” He met Draco’s eyes stoically. “Draco, you know that if Pansy publishes the happenings as you are planning that you almost certainly be disowned.” 

There was a shocked silence as those gathered realized that he was probably right. 

Draco, however, was not surprised. He had known this was coming for a while. Malfoy’s were not known for mercy, and he was honestly a little amazed that his father had not disowned him instead of whipping him for that newspaper article that was released before. “I am aware. I have some contingency plans in place and a comfortable amount to live off of.” 

Everyone watched with bated breath, afraid to interject anything into the tense atmosphere. This was between Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, clearly. 

The Potions Professor sighed. “While it is good that you have taken measures to ensure your safety, there is something large that cannot really be fixed by prior planning. What of your magic? Disconnecting it from such a longstanding and powerful family name will unbalance your core.” 

Fred and George scooted in closer to the Slytherins. “What is the greasy git,” began Fred, “Talking about?” finished George. 

Greg answered softly, eyes never leaving the two Slytherins. “When heirs of powerful bloodlines are disowned, their magic is disconnected from the family and it often causes problems. In some extreme cases, it even led to madness. A powerful family name like Malfoy will certainly lead to magical complications for Draco unless he takes another name immediately. Names are important in magic…names have power.” 

Nodding their understanding, the two Gryffindors present turned their attention back to the main conversation, catching only part of what was being said.   
“–my hope that Sirius Black will eventually welcome me as a fellow outcast, as my mother was a Black. But I am not counting on that.” Draco explained. “My blood bond with the Krum family should protect me in the meantime.” 

“Should is not good enough, Draco.” Snape hissed. “Magic is rarely predictable. What if things do not fit into your plans?”

Draco shrugged helplessly. “There is only so much I can do! Do you have any suggestions, or would you like to continue berating me?”

Severus scowled in annoyance. “Do not mistake consideration for disapproval!” he rebuked his pupil. “If necessary, I can adopt you in secret, Draco. I only wanted to make sure you had some solid options to fall back on.” 

Cowed, Draco dipped his head. “Thank you. That is reassuring.” He cleared his throat. “I also planned to speak to Tracey Davis after the Task and venture into Muggle London. It would be a place my father would never look for me, if I ever needed such a place.” 

Viktor smiled. “That is a trip I wouldn’t mind making as well. My parents have taken my alliance with you well, but you never know.” Draco agreed with a nod. 

Luna smiled dreamily. “The room has cleared! I have a feeling that everything will work out tomorrow. Things won’t be perfect, but there will be no major complications.” Her wispy voice surprised everyone. 

Draco gave her a small smile and replied. “That is good news. Now, is there anything else? Everyone knows their roles perfectly? No questions?” When there was no response, he nodded acceptingly. “Get some sleep tonight. Tomorrow will be a long day.” As the group slowly dissipated, Draco turned to Viktor. “Good luck tomorrow. Not that you need it.” He clapped Viktor on the shoulder encouragingly and gave him a small smile. 

The Bulgarian Seeker returned the smile. “Thank you. Stay safe.” 

Draco returned to the Slytherin dorms alongside his Housemates. 

It was a restless night.


	11. Perilous Flight

Waking up from a terrible nightmare was never a pleasant experience. It had happened to Draco before, but very rarely. Today was obviously one of those rare days. In fact, it was even worse than a nightmare, because what he had dreamed about had the potential to come to life.

Draco focused on his breathing: deep breath in, deep breath out. His heart was racing and the images running through his head made him want to vomit. It was a good thing he was in the habit of placing silencing spells over his bed curtains, or his whole House would likely be wondering what the hell was wrong with him. His throat burned from screaming. 

Gripping the silken sheets in white-fisted hands, Draco’s head dropped to his chest in discouragement. Of all things he had expected to wake up to, such a horrifying vision was not such a thing. Absently, Draco wondered if this was his Seer gift’s way of trying to get his attention. If he had been convinced that preventing Cedric Diggory’s death today was important, his visions certainly impressed upon him the dire need for his plans to go as organized. The consequences of failure were much too daunting. 

To be truthful, Draco was continually coming to hate his visions more and more. He had already understood that saving Cedric was necessary, but now he felt as if the weight of the world was placed firmly upon his shoulders, and the bulk of the responsibility could not be avoided or delegated. Should he fail…Draco shuddered, trying to push the disturbing images out of his mind’s eye. He had already seen enough of the darkness in the world, but what he had just seen added significantly to that darkness. The missing support of his family was beginning to wear on him…

Reaching for his wand, Draco checked the time and found it to be early morning. Classes today had been cancelled in anticipation of the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament, so there was not much point in dragging himself out of bed until later, before breakfast ended. Even if he missed breakfast, he now knew the secret way into the kitchen. 

Better, instead, to compose himself and come to terms with what he had just seen. Scenes of war, terror, mayhem, and the absolute destruction of the wizarding community were just the beginning. Really, it was surprising that he wasn’t some drooling vegetable in St. Mungo’s by this point. 

As soon as this tournament was over, Draco needed to make it a priority to learn more about his Sight. Otherwise, it would become dangerous very quickly. Perhaps it was time he told Severus about everything. At this point, he supposed Severus was trustworthy. The Third Task would be the final test. 

Changing his mind suddenly, Draco arose from the bed and exited the Slytherin dormitories, passing through the empty common room and deciding the visit a place he hadn’t been in a while. 

Desperate times called for desperate measures. Taking his time, he walked through the empty corridors until he reached a place seldom frequented by students: the Hall of Portraits. 

The majority of students ignored the portraits, finding them either irritating or surly. Draco, however, was not the kind of person to pass up free information. Seemingly useless tidbits received in the past had often turned out to be rather beneficial, when utilized in the right situations.

In this case, the portraits’ insights just might save his life. 

The oldest portraits were located in the back of the corridor, so Draco greeted the others as he passed. There were no books on the subject, so he knew that he had to talk to portraits older than the books he had attempted to use as a reference. He had refrained from visiting them for information before, just because their advice often had two issues. The advice came with strings attached, and could also be extremely prejudiced depending on the type of witch or wizard it came from. 

At the moment, though, Draco was unsettled enough to go through with it, regardless of the cost. 

As he strode down the corridor, he began to notice the frame and painting styles getting more and more antiquated. Pausing, he surveyed the portraits nearby.   
Unlike the newer portraits, the elder portraits tended to be mostly silent unless directly addressed. Luckily for Draco, part of his Pureblood heritage included proper manners when addressing portraits.   
“A boon for your favor.” He began formally, with a slight bow. 

One portrait spoke first, of an older woman. Draco would guess she was from the Greengrass family from her resemblance to Daphne. “What will my favor do for you?” She responded a bit brusquely. 

Draco smiled politely. “I wish to speak to a Seer of old.” 

Quiet murmuring spread through the portrait hall. The woman portrait that had responded to Draco gave him a waspish smile. “My favor is yours to receive in return for a task.” 

“Please elaborate, madam.” Draco pushed back fringe from his eyes. 

“My name is Elora Greengrass and I am the third daughter of Xerxes Greengrass. What is your name, young Malfoy?” Elora inclined her head within the portrait. 

“Draco Malfoy, only child of Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxas Malfoy. It is a pleasure to meet the ancestor of a friend.” Perhaps a tad over-exaggerated, but it never hurt to establish common ground in a negotiation. 

Elora smiled at that, as Draco had expected. “Draco. From Draconis, I would imagine? You must be a relative of the Blacks with a name like that.” When Draco nodded, she continued happily, “Well met, young man. I will ask my boon now. There is a certain valuable heirloom that I kept secretly in my possession until my death. Because I kept it hidden, my family likely did not rediscover it. I wish for your wizard’s oath to retrieve this item and return it to the Greengrass family. When you have given your oath, I will give you the name of the Seer and his portrait location.” 

Intrigued, Draco nodded. Male seers were quite rare, as Sight tended to manifest to individuals with higher control and less sheer magical power, which was more typical of witches. The opportunity to speak with someone like him was very enticing. “Please tell me the location of the item, and I will give you my oath to return it. I will not agree if it is in an unreasonable place, or one that time has rendered unreachable.” 

Elora smirked. “Very wise of you, young Draco. The heirloom is a grimoire and it is located in Lourmarin, southern France. Since the Malfoy family comes from France, it should not be too difficult for you to travel there with relative ease. I will give you a time period of seven years to accomplish this task. It is not feasible for you to go while you are finishing your schooling.” 

Very reasonable terms. Draco was pleasantly surprised. “I accept. I give you my wizard’s oath that I will retrieve this grimoire and return it to you family before my twenty-first birthday.” Draco felt his magic flare up in response to the oath and then settle back around him. He felt invisible bonds settle into place around his wrists. 

Satisfied, Elora told Draco, “The one you are looking for is the Brahan Seer. He is not known by another name. Continue walking for three minutes down the corridor and you will come across his portrait. His appearance is like that of the Weasley family…red hair and light eyes.” 

Bowing his head, Draco turned to follow her instructions, pulse racing with anticipation. Maybe, at last, he would finally get some answers…After he had ventured three more minutes into the corridor, Draco looked around with surprise. Compared to the densely populated walls earlier on, the wall here was empty. No other portraits surrounded the Seer. 

The vibe that settled in the corridor was absolutely eerie just then. Cautiously, Draco approached the portrait and gave the politest form of greeting he had been taught. “Honored elder, I ask for your ear.”

The portrait (which did indeed bear a resemblance to the Weasleys) opened clear, glacier-blue eyes. “Speak.” The voice which rumbled from the portrait was rusty with disuse and deep. 

“I have learned from your descendants that we share the same curse.” Draco told the Seer’s portrait cautiously. 

The portrait’s demeanor immediately changed from aloof and disinterested to intensely, frighteningly engaged. “Why have you come?” 

Draco sighed, wearily rubbing his temples. “My Sight is destroying me. I had hoped you might know something, anything, that could help me.” 

“The cycle continues.” The portrait’s voice rumbled. “I have waited for you to come.” The portrait lifted a hood back from his face, revealing two large scars on either side of his forehead, scars that almost appeared as if his eyes had nearly been gouged out. “Receive the privilege of being my pupil and know my true name: Kalistos Wier, the Seer of Brahan. Sit, and I will tell you what I know of this curse.” 

With bated breath, Draco obeyed. “My name is Draco Malfoy.” He responded, settling down to listen. 

Kalistos began. “I discovered the Sight late in life, compared to many other Seers. I was ten and seven years when everything began. Unlike a witch, wizard Seers have wildly unpredictable gifts connected to their Sight. Not only did I suffer through horrible visions, but I also found I had the ability to charm-speak. It quickly grew unmanageable. I could barely make a comment without beguiling others to agree or obey me. My friends turned away, terrified that I would make slaves of them. I could not control it and it was destroying my life. It was in the midst of despair that I self-inflicted these scars.” The Seer paused. “I mistakenly believed that if my eyes were gone, my Sight would be gone as well. I was terribly wrong. In the midst of this I had a vision of my family’s death. When I woke up, my scars were healed and my family was dead.” 

Kalistos’s voice was emotionless, time deadening the pain, as he continued, “I was inconsolable. I had nothing to live for, and my life was torment. The only thing that saved me was the discovery of an ancient book in my family library…the journal of a male Seer generations before me. Through the journal’s guidelines, I was able to tame my ability. My predecessor Seer was tormented by his gift of beast control. He came to understand it through the writings of another male Seer, and formatted a list of rules. Living by these rules and training with your gift will allow you to control it.”

Draco took this all in with trembling hands. He was close, so close, to learning what he needed…

Kalistos jutted his chin out at Draco. “I will tell you where the journal is, but in return you will grant me two things. First, you will tell me about your gift. Second, after you have some modicum of control over your gift you will destroy my portrait and release me. I have served my purpose.” 

Draco nodded. “Yes. My difficulties sound a bit different than the charm-speak you dealt with. I have…multiple facets of Sight. There are three aspects that have manifest thus far. I call them Voices, Flashes, and Visions.” He paused, gathering the right words. “I see the voices of people in color. Each person has a uniquely colored voice, according to their personality and values. Whenever a person speaks I see color. As for the Flashes, I cannot be touched by someone without seeing the memories of that person, or certain aspects of their future. The Visions are similar to what you describe…warnings of future calamity. However, when I suffer an injury in the vision, I awake to find it has injured me outside of my dream as well. I am afraid that I will die in a vision and never wake up.” 

Kalistos stared at Draco in silence for several long moments before he responded. “There is no precedent for having more than one gift, excluding the visions. Your abilities are worrying. You may have to develop further theories in order to protect yourself. However, as I promised, I will give you the location of the journal. It is located within the Chamber of Secrets. I hid it there during my time as the Professor of Divination.” 

Draco scowled. “The Chamber of Secrets was sealed off after a mishap two years ago with a basilisk. I will not be able to enter inside without someone who has been inside.” 

Kalistos frowned in return, thoughtful. “And there is no one who was inside the chamber that could assist you?” 

Draco thought back to the rumors he had heard in second year. The Gryffindor Trio…and Ginny Weasley. Well. Perhaps the Girl Weasley would finally prove her worth. “There is…a possibility. Once I am inside the Chamber, how will I find the journal? It must be massive.” 

Kalistos gave him a small smile. “There is a secret compartment near the statue of Salazar Slytherin decorated with a Third Eye. Simply channel your magic into it and it will open, recognizing your Sight.” 

Draco nodded solemnly, stood, and bowed. “Thank you, honored elder. I will do as you have asked, and return if I need your assistance, or if I do not.” 

He turned and left the hall of portraits, head spinning. Touching his connection to Viktor, he said urgently, Find Fred and George, and have them bring Ginny to Severus’s office. I require her assistance. Fred and George can come along. 

Finally, at last, progress after searching so long. Draco had been afraid to come here before, cautioned by tales of extraction and unreasonable tasks from the portraits. Now, he wished he had come sooner. 

Moments later he was in Snape’s empty office, waiting. After some time three Weasleys burst through the door. Ginny sneered at him. “What do you want, Malfoy?” Clearly she still held some discrimination against him for his father’s actions. 

Giving her a chastising look, he turned and greeted Fred and George instead of answering. “Thanks for coming. I discovered that there is an important cache hidden in the Chamber of Secrets. Hence your sister.” In order to keep the peace, Draco decided to use his allies as mediums rather than speaking directly to Girl Weasley. 

Ginny began to squawk immediately. “The Chamber? No! Absolutely not, I am never going back there again.” Her face was beginning to pale. 

Deciding there was something to be gained here, Draco turned to meet her eyes. “Weasley…Ginny.” Using her name snapped her attention to him. “I wouldn’t ask this if it weren’t of paramount importance. Potter’s life could be in danger.” In a very roundabout sort of way, it was somewhat true. 

By the look on Fred and George’s faces, they knew that it was 85% untrue. But they didn’t intervene. 

“Harry? Well of course then…but why would you want to help Harry? You hate each other.” Ginny peered suspiciously at Draco, feeling unnerved by the civility. And the fact that, well…Draco Malfoy could never be called ugly, and even Ginny had to acknowledge that he was bloody attractive. Even though he was a complete jerk. 

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead crossed his arms over his chest. “I have never hated Harry Potter. I could care less about Potter’s person, true, but his safety is a matter of the wizarding world’s safety, so in that sense it is in my best interests to help Potter.” 

At that rather selfish answer, Ginny seemed reassured. “Fine, I will take you to the Chamber. The entrance is in the girl’s bathroom, the one Moaning Myrtle haunts.” 

Fred and George looked gleeful at the start of a new adventure. “Gin Gin -” began one twin, “You’ve been holding out on us!” Finished the second. They both circled the room, poking and prodding at the various objects. 

Ginny stood with her arms clutched around herself and face pale. She said nothing, but she was trembling slightly. 

With a weary sigh, Draco decided that Fred and George weren’t going to comfort her. Barely believing that he was doing this, he stepped up beside Ginny and laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It was something Charlie would want him to do, after all…this was his little sister. 

She looked up at him in shock, meeting cool gray eyes. Swallowing audibly, she murmured softly, “Thanks.” 

Nodding wordlessly, he moved away toward the statue of Salazar Slytherin. As instructed, he examined the area nearby for the Third Eye. Concentrating on the symbol, he reached out with his magic, feeling something pulse back. A deep rumbling sound echoed throughout the Chamber as stone slid aside, revealing a compartment on the floor. 

Fred and George scurried over. “What did you find?” George questioned, while Fred remarked, “Is it a basilisk?” 

Draco gave them a scornful look. “Why in Salazar’s name would I go looking for a basilisk? I’m not a Gryffindor.” He reached down into the compartment and removed three items: a leather-bound book, a gold and indigo cloth, and a silver collar. “I found what I came for. We can go now.” He tucked the items away into his robes so that Fred and George wouldn’t ask too many questions. 

They began the trek out of the Chamber after a few protests. However, to silence the twins, Draco simply directed their gazes to a still-pale Ginny. As Fred and George led the way, Draco dropped back a little to speak to Ginny. “Thank you for coming. It can’t have been easy.” Without waiting for a response, Draco took several long strides and drew even with George. 

They parted ways then, and Draco returned to the Slytherin dormitory carefully, keeping an eye out for troublemakers. He headed straight to his room and drew the bed curtains, casting locking and privacy charms and opening the book. The first page contained a strange sentence. 

_Seer’s First Rule: The law of power. Control the Sight before it controls you._

The journal elaborated further after that. Apparently, outside the specific gifts, a male Seer’s Sight was inherently imbalanced and dangerous. Even if the gift manifestations were not harmful, the visions themselves would begin to cause horrible headaches that would eventually lead to death if the Sight was not trained. 

A male Seer was rare, and the journal’s author knew of no other male seer but one predecessor, who had already passed along and left his writings. Draco could read between the lines and infer that male seers were rare because they often died before gaining control of their abilities. 

The book continued to talk about the headaches. Apparently, once the headaches manifested, they would become increasingly more painful within a relatively short amount of time. As soon as the headache hit, he would have to isolate himself and fully concentrate on training his Sight, or risk being destroyed by it. 

Somehow, Draco could sense that time was coming more quickly than he would prefer. Skipping ahead a bit, Draco found the next section. 

_Seer’s Second Rule: The law of mistrust. Visions can be deceptive. Don’t blindly trust what you See._

A chill went down Draco’s spine at those ominous words. If he couldn’t trust his visions, then what was their purpose other than to make his life miserable? He had assumed that, by receiving the visions, he was supposed to act upon them or risk his magic. Was that assumption wrong? 

To his relief, it didn’t seem as if that was what the journal was trying to say. Rather, it was more a question of interpretation, and not being overconfident in an assumed meaning. Well, that seemed self-explanatory to Draco. Overconfidence always led to a fall. He skipped ahead again, trying to find a specific “next-step” to implement and lessen the danger. 

_Seer’s Third Rule: The law of inhibitors. There are two necessary items for a learning Seer to remain in control: a sealing cloth and a binding collar._

Intrigued, Draco removed the silver collar and the indigo-gold cloth. These must be those items…scanning the passage quickly, he nearly collapsed in relief at the welcome information.   
The sealing cloth is magically adapted specifically to dim the Seer’s sight, reducing the potency of visions and premonitions. The seal bound within the cloth disguises the Seer’s magical aura and muffles his magical power from other’s perceptions. In early stages of training, the cloth is necessary in order to limit power and increase ease of control. 

The binding collar controls Seer-specific gifts, discussed more in the fifth seer’s rule. Without the collar gifts have the potential to overwhelm a seer’s other senses and loosen his anchor in reality. Many fully-trained seers continue to use the collar for extra security, fearful that their gifts will cause harm to others. It also allows seers to blend back in with wizarding society in gifted areas. For example, my own gift was beast control. Anytime I was around animals, they would approach me and do my bidding. In order to keep my abilities secret, I would wear the collar anytime I was in public and might possibly be approached by animals. 

Needing no further urging, Draco snapped the collar around his neck first, goosebumps prickling his flesh as he felt the strange sensation of a clamp around his magic. Maybe, with this…he might actually touch someone without seeing their memories or their futures. The thought was liberating.

Next, he tied the cloth firmly over his eyes, uncaring that he would receive strange looks. He didn’t plan on running into anyone until after the Third Task, in which he would be the recipient of stares anyways. Intrigued, he found that he could see just as well as if there was nothing over his eyes. He would bet that the cloth had a multitude of other charms and runes woven into the cloth.   
Drawing in a deep breath, Draco moved to the next section. He would do a more in-depth study of the journal later, but right now he didn’t have the time before the Task began.   
Fourth Seer’s Rule: The law of soul-bonds. Male seers often have spirit guides or familiars. Such a companion is also a method of increasing control. In rare occasions, two human souls have been bound together in a similar manner, but it has always ended poorly. Beware of forming soul-bonds with other wizards or witches; a seer’s soul is constantly reaching out and drawing others in.   
Draco sincerely hoped that his blood pact with Viktor was not influenced by his seer’s soul in that way. However, it didn’t seem as if there had been any negative effects so far, so he could only continue to wait and see. 

_Fifth Seer’s Rule: The law of gifts. Male seers always have a gift, defined as a strange ability that is often coercive and dangerous to others. There are three known categories for gifts: persuasion, control, and discernment._

He continued to read a bit further for clarification, A gift of persuasion allows for the influence of others through speech, song, or writing. Control, such as my gift, allows the seer to bypass the free will of other creatures and command them. Finally, the rarest category, discernment, allows the seer to gather information, memories, thoughts, feelings, and other aspects of the psyche from anyone they encounter. All of these gifts are very dangerous, but the gift of discernment is more dangerous to the seer than to others as the influx of unwanted information can be mentally harmful.   
Draco groaned to himself. Of course, he would have the gift that put his own life in danger. The journal continued to give examples of known seer gifts, but Draco again skipped ahead.   
Sixth Seer’s Rule: The law of balance. Balance is essential to a seer’s existence. A seer whose heart, mind, or soul is out of balance will be ineffective and easily destroyed. Know yourself. To doubt in your abilities is to risk everything. 

That rule seemed particularly vague and mysterious to Draco. He would have to reflect upon it when he had more time, as reading the details would probably give more explanation. He flipped to the next rule. 

_Seventh Seer’s Rule: The law of sacrificial magic. Be extremely wary of sacrificial magic and life-debts becoming intertwined with your Sight. Such interactions of magic can have unintended and far-reaching consequences._

Draco’s eyes shot up from the book when he heard a quiet groan. The time was early afternoon, so it was surprising that anyone was in the dormitories. Closing the book and tucking it into his robes, he stood and made his way toward the sound to investigate. 

What he saw was shocking. Theodore Nott was hunched up against the wall, practically collapsed against it for support. His face was a mottled network of bruises, and blood dribbled from his split lip.   
Draco immediately grasped what had happened. Theo’s sexuality sometimes painted him as a target, especially to some of the older Gryffindor students, who were notoriously homophobic. While it was rare, such a thing had occurred before. “You bloody idiot,” Draco murmured, harsh words contrasting his gentle manner as he helped Theo to his bed. “You should know better than to wander alone. Now give me the names of those fuckers.” As he spoke, he drew his wand and began casting healing and diagnostic spells. Theo’s nose was broken, he discovered, and a quick Episkey solved that. Draco healed the split lip and did his best for the multitude of bruises, all the while staring Theo down intensely, waiting for a response. 

Theo gave an airy laugh and waved off Draco’s concern. “Don’t stir up trouble on my behalf, you know whatever you do will somehow get turned back on you. We’re the evil Slytherins, after all. We deserve whatever we get. Anyways, what’s with the blindfold? Did I walk in on something I shouldn’t have?” 

Draco gripped Theodore’s collar fiercely, eyes glinting like steel. He ignored the innuendo filled inquiry. “I don’t want to hear you saying things like that again. This isn’t normal, nor is it acceptable. Don’t excuse or tolerate their prejudice. If I want to punish those shit-faces it is my own prerogative. Names. Now.” His hands loosened from the shirt collar and smoothed down Theo’s chest clinically, feeling for broken ribs. 

Theo rattled off their names listlessly, both weary and grateful for Draco’s interference. He winced as Draco’s hands found a particularly tender area right below his ribcage. “Fucking ow, you tosser!” he complained. 

Draco’s cold but furious gaze quieted him quickly. “This cannot keep happening. After the Tournament, we are going to make some demands. Our influence within this school should not result in treatment like this.”

Theodore’s eyes widened fractionally. “Draco, you have no idea what kind of trouble you would be getting yourself into. Just leave it be, we only have two years left after this. It isn’t worth causing a stir.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed in response to that. While he wasn’t overbearingly arrogant, he was an aristocrat through and through. “I’ll do what I damn well please, Theodore. And this does not please me.” He gripped Theo’s chin firmly, tilting it down to examine a cut across his housemate’s brow. “Other than the bruising, is there anything else hurting?” 

Theo smiled ruefully. “Other than my pride?” he wisecracked. “No, that crack to the nose was the biggest one. Got in a few good kicks here, too.” He tapped his midsection nonchalantly. “I’m still pretty, so I guess they failed. Thanks for the help, mate.” 

Draco gave him a rare smile. “Looks like your pride is doing just fine.” He commented sardonically. He rose from Theo’s bed and felt the book inside his robes smack into his hip with the motion. 

Theo eyed him warily. “Really, though, what’s with the blindfold? It’s freaking me out. How can you even see?” 

Draco sighed in annoyance. “It’s an artifact. I can see despite it. It helps my magic. Let’s leave it at that.” He cast a quick glamour over the cloth and the collar, thankful that he had always been skilled at glamour magic. 

Theo watched him cast, fascinated. “I didn’t know you could do that.” He commented, raising an eyebrow. “Glamour magic is difficult, right? Why didn’t you do things like that in Defense? You would’ve beat more people in duels using deception magic.” 

Draco pressed his lips together. “You’ve been in Slytherin for four years, Theodore. Haven’t you learned the value of an ace in the hole yet? Revealing all your strengths gives other people the opportunity to counter them more easily.” 

Theo chuckled. “You really are the perfect Slytherin, Draco.” His ambiguous comment sounded neutral, but there was a hint of bitterness there. 

Draco’s gaze was penetrating. “A perfect Slytherin? Only if you think a perfect Slytherin is one who will likely get disowned in the next few days.” He moved into Theo’s space, eyes sharp with intelligence. “I don’t know what you all insist on putting me on a pedestal. Blaise said something similar a few days back. It’s ridiculous.” 

Theo met his eyes steadily. “You only say that because you can’t see how much composure you have about everything, how many things we admire about you. You’re so confident that what you’re doing is the most logical option and we envy that self-assurance. We are all floundering and you aren’t.” 

Draco shook his head, denying the points. “What would be the point of doubting my own judgment? I think we’ve all been through enough shit to know a bit about how bad decisions play out, and to be suitably cautious.” 

Theo just smiled and shrugged. “If you say so. Not everyone thinks like that, though. Anyways, what were you doing in here before I staggered in? Last minute strategizing?” 

Draco smirked. “Something like that.” He responded enigmatically. “What were you doing before you foolishly decided to wander alone? I’ll take you back there.” 

Theo stood up, wincing at the soreness. In a moment of rare vulnerability, he gave in to his body’s demand and leaned into Draco. His limbs nearly shook with exhaustion. The blue-eyed boy murmured in a low voice, “You’ve been different lately. More involved. It’s nice.” 

Because of that action, Draco knew Theo was more shaken than he was letting on about the incident. His desire for the punishment of the aggressors was strengthened. Although Blaise was the self-appointed “best friend” of Draco, there had always been a softer spot for Theo, likely because he came from an old Pureblood family like Draco and understood so much more than Blaise often did. Perhaps as a result of that, Draco found himself stroking the nape of Theo’s neck comfortingly. It also was partly motivated by his desire to see if Flashes would still happen.   
When none were forthcoming, Draco smiled to himself. The final test would, of course, be his visions, and if he woke again with a wound. But this was a good sign. 

Theo, on the other hand, was shocked into stillness by the uncharacteristic gesture. He was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, however, so he breathed in Draco’s scent and savored the moment before stepping back and meeting Draco’s eyes warmly, wordlessly, to show that he was thankful. “Most of us were out by the lake enjoying the sun. After the task, it’s supposed to snow for a week or so.” He stepped past Draco, leading the way out of the quiet dormitory. 

They continued outside to the lake, where most of the Hogwarts students were scattered across the lawn. Pulling his robes tighter around himself to block out the wind (just because it was sunny didn’t mean that it wasn’t cold), Draco slid into the grass beside Theo, pressing closer than he normally would because the wind was icy cold. He felt a mental tug from Viktor and looked up. 

The muscled Seeker gave Draco a nod of greeting and plopped onto the grass among the halfheartedly. His attention was caught, however, when Pansy began speaking of her parents. 

“They sent me a letter last week telling me that they were looking for someone to marry me off to. If they have their way, I’ll probably be engaged by next year and married straight out of Hogwarts. It’s insane! My mother must be taking too many potions to think this will work out.” 

Draco internally frowned at himself. It seems that he had been much too absorbed in his own problems not to notice all the pressures his friends seemed to be under…maybe Theodore was right, not because Draco was better at handling stressful situations, but because he wasn’t supporting his friends as well as they were supporting him. Leaning forward, Draco spoke to Pansy. “What can they use to force you to comply? They can legally engage you without your consent, but once you are of marriageable age, you will also have access to your trust fund.” 

Pansy raised her eyebrows. Draco wasn’t normally the type to involve himself in the everyday situations of his housemates. A little snippily, she told him, “They can’t really force me, Draco, but I don’t want them to kick me out or stop providing for me. My parents are important to me, and I don’t want to upset them…even if they have horrible taste in men.” There were two subtle but painful barbs directed at Draco: parents and men. After all, clearly Draco didn’t care about his parents that much since he was disobeying them. And Pansy’s family had considered a betrothal between Pansy and Draco before, so her comment was derogatory to Draco as well. 

Draco pressed his lips together in an effort to hide his recoil from that. He couldn’t expect his housemates to treat him kindly all the time, especially when he had been so self-absorbed lately. Pansy was just upset and he had made himself an easy target. As a Slytherin, he couldn’t become sensitive to the comments of his housemates, and he certainly shouldn’t be taken aback by something as minor as this. 

Surprisingly, it was Theo who stuck up for Draco. “Don’t be a bitch, Pans. Draco was just trying to help. No need to bite his head off.” 

Both Pansy and Blaise blinked at Theo in astonishment. Theo was typically fairly quiet and not the type to stick up for himself, least of all for others. 

Clearing her throat, Pansy quickly recovered. “Er, right. Sorry, Drake. That was a bit nasty of me.” 

Draco accepted the apology with an uncaring shrug. He met Theo’s gaze and gave him a small smile of thanks. 

At that moment, footsteps sounded behind them and Draco turned slightly to see who was approaching them. Unexpectedly, it was Charlie…surrounded by a horde of Weasleys. Draco simply raised an eyebrow, not impressed by the posse. 

Charlie caught his look and rubbed his neck sheepishly. “I was just going to come say hi and they all insisted on following me.” 

Fred and George dropped onto the grass, grinning mischievously at Draco with knowing looks in their eyes. Clearly they thought they were something special, now knowing the way into the Chamber of Secrets. Draco should feel sorry for their future victims but he didn’t have the capacity. As long as it wasn’t him…

Ginny and Ron Weasley hovered behind either of Charlie’s shoulders, glaring at Draco. Granger and Potter had also tagged along: Granger was eyeing the Slytherins suspiciously, while Potter was staring rather piteously at Draco. Draco ignored the lot of them, with the exception of the twins and Charlie. 

The oldest Weasley present seemed content to watch Draco and his friends. Other than planning meetings, he had never seen the Ice Prince in his natural element around his friends, and the interactions were intriguing. 

At least, they were until he watched Theodore lean in close and whisper something, causing Draco to chuckle, hair mussed and eyes alight with contentment. A strange feeling twisted in his chest. He avoided thinking about what he could be feeling, because if he thought about it he would definitely know exactly what it was. 

To distract himself, Charlie lowered himself to the grass on Draco’s opposite side and leaned back, staring at the sky. The rest of the posse decided to wander away at that moment, not willing to be seen sitting peacefully with the Slytherins. Draco was grateful for the pretentiousness, as he didn’t exactly want people who hated him hanging around on a lark either. 

As the rest of the Slytherins were entertained by the twins, Draco leaned in to speak to Charlie quietly. “You look a little more stressed than the last time we spoke.” Draco remarked quietly, not really asking but waiting for Charlie to speak about what was wrong. 

Charlie looked surprised. “I sometimes forget how perceptive you are.” He looked more closely at Draco for a moment, blinking. “Are you wearing a glamour? Something’s a bit strange…”   
Draco smirked. “Yes.” For a brief moment, he let it drop, allowing Charlie to see the cloth covering his eyes. “I finally found what I was looking for. I am hoping this will keep me from getting hurt in the visions. I can touch people now without seeing things, which is a good sign.” His hand briefly ghosted across Charlie’s knee demonstratively. 

A broad grin spread across Charlie’s face. “That’s fantastic! I knew you would find something. It’s even better that you found it before the Third Task.” They were keeping their voices low so that others couldn’t here. After Draco had briefly dropped the glamour, Charlie was able to see Draco’s face as it actually was. He reached out and touch the cloth at Draco’s temple, feeling the buzz of magic surrounding the runic cloth. “That’s impressive...I can’t imagine how many charms and runes are contained in that thing. It buzzes like ancient magical artifacts.” 

Draco chuckled, voice husky. “That’s pretty much what it is. In fact, this thing is probably even older than many of the things we see as ancient…” He muttered quietly. 

Charlie cocked his head to one side, humming in agreement. “It is an interesting look for you…somehow it really reinforces the idea that you’re actually a Seer.” It was then that they both noticed all the people staring at them, and realized that Charlie had just seemingly leaned in and touched Draco’s face out of the blue. Charlie quickly looked away and tried to act nonchalant. Draco just smirked at his friends, uncaring. 

Draco was trying not to focus on or think about the upcoming Task, but not succeeding very well at his avoidance. Surrounded by his friends and allies, he was at least confident that he wouldn’t be left alone to face anything. With a yawn, Draco scooted down further into the grass, draping his feet across Charlie’s legs and imperiously resting his head on Theo’s thigh. Despite his anxiety, he was incredibly relaxed at the same time. The wounds on his back weren’t pulling much today and the scar on his arm had healed enough that it was itchy rather than painful. Staring at the sky thoughtfully, he let his body relax and sink into the ground. 

Draco’s friends watched him fondly, glad to see that he wasn’t visibly worried or apprehensive about the final Task. Theo lifted his hand and carded it gently through Draco’s white-blond locks, happy to have this moment of peace. The gorgeous blonde on his lap was another plus. 

The moment was broken when music began playing, indicating that the Third Task would be beginning soon. Draco’s face grew business-like and he stood quickly. 

Viktor was getting to his feet as well. “That is the summons for the Champions. I need to go. Draco, stay safe. Follow the plan and things should work out.” He patted Blaise and Theo on the back, kissed Pansy’s cheek, and clasped Draco’s forearm briefly before disappearing toward the music’s origin. 

Charlie was standing to his feet as well, brushing the grass from his trousers. “Better go get our dragon ready for action. Can’t believe this is really happening.” He disappeared as well.   
The rest of the group, Slytherin and Weasley alike, headed toward the stands after saying goodbye to Draco. The Malfoy heir gathered up the Invisibility Cloak and his broom, readying himself for the intervention ahead. 

Throwing the cloak nervously over his head and mounting his broom, he flew toward the maze and watched, aloof, as the Third Task began. The noise was nearly deafening as the crowd of Hogwarts students, family members, and those who came as spectators from the London Wizarding Community roared their approval of the Third Task beginning. 

Draco’s mind was racing too quickly to pay much attention to the Champions and their actions inside the maze. After all of the Champions had encountered their first obstacle, Draco kicked off of the ground again and flew toward the center of the maze, apprehensive. He made sure to steer clear of any magical creatures that might be able to see through the Invisibility Cloak, making his way rapidly but carefully toward the disguised automatic Portkey. It was then that he heard the roar of the dragon. Hopefully the dragon and the Champions would keep the attention away from the maze center, where floating objects would be clearly visible. 

Swooping into the maze center, Draco landed smoothly and pulled the Runic bag Snape had given him from his robe pocket along with a small cup. With a swish of his unregistered wand, he Transfigured the small cup into a look-alike Triwizard cup. Using his broom handle Draco slid the Cup smoothly into the bag and placed the Transfigured-cup onto the pedestal.   
His hands were shaking and his body dripping with sweat from the simple motions, nervous of being caught or making a mistake. 

Painstakingly tying the bag, extremely careful not to touch the Portkey, Draco tucked it into his robes and flew out of the maze, adrenaline surging through his veins. _Phase one: Complete._ He told Viktor, touching the mark on his palm. _I have the Portkey._


	12. First Confrontation

As Draco swept in on his broom toward the deserted lawn he had relaxed upon earlier that day, his hands trembled upon his broom with adrenaline and apprehension. Charlie was waiting for him, along with Blaise. He could hear the Tournament’s hubbub in the distance, but his head was spinning a bit with the craziness of what he had just done. In fact, he wouldn’t be surprised if his system was under a small degree of shock. As he dismounted the broom, he stumbled slightly. 

Charlie grabbed his shoulders and steadied him, while Blaise caught the broom as it was falling to the ground, keeping it from being scratched or bent. “Draco? You okay?” Blaise questioned his housemate. 

Draco took a deep breath. “Ace, mate. Just glad that part’s over.” He attempted to extricate himself from Charlie’s hold and nearly fell again. “Maybe a bit wonky.” He amended with a fresh-faced grin. 

Charlie lowered him slowly to the ground and plopped down beside him. “You got it, though? You have the Portkey?” 

Draco nodded, lifting the Runic bag from his robes and settling it into his lap with extreme care. “Yes.” He reached over and picked up Potter’s invisibility cloak, folding it carefully and sliding it into his robes as well. His gaze shifted sideways when he heard footsteps approaching. Luna Lovegood and Pansy Parkinson were making their way over, faces brightening when they saw Draco unharmed. 

Draco smirked back at them. “Here, Pans. Your cloak.” Pulling it from his robes, he handed it over. “Take care of it…you know, for Potter.” His eyes held a wicked glint. 

She laughed out loud. “Oh, of course I will. For Potter.” Her sapphire-blue eyes sparkled back at him in mirth. 

Luna sprawled out across the grass, small giggles sounding like bell chimes. “The Wrackspurts can’t see us today!” she told Draco gleefully. 

Draco grinned at her. “Events are in our favor, then.” He agreed. 

A few more people were headed their way by this point: Bill Weasley, stern-faced and rigid, came to his brother’s side without any greeting or comment to the rest. On the other hand, the twins crowded around Draco noisily, patting his back and exclaiming about his amazing feat of pranking an entire school. Also, surprisingly, Ginny Weasley followed her eldest brother to Charlie’s side and stayed there quietly, watching Draco with careful but nonjudgmental eyes. Charlie hadn’t mentioned Ginny before, but Draco supposed that by her presence here she could hold her own in a duel. That, and she had four brothers to look out for her. 

The chatter quieted as Bill cleared his throat pointedly. Draco looked up to meet his eyes unwaveringly. The eldest Weasley son regarded him strictly. “I don’t know what kind of foolhardy scheme you’re trying to rope Charlie into, Malfoy, but I don’t trust you. I’m only here to protect my family.” 

Draco shrugged uncaringly. “That’s fine.” He said simply, turning away to look at Pansy. “Pans, did you get the Portkey to Fleur before the Task?” 

The Slytherin girl nodded, brushing her hair back behind her ears. “Yes, she has it. As soon as the Tournament’s winner is announced, she and Viktor will activate the Portkey and come to where you are. It should be accurate enough, being attuned to your blood bond with Krum.” 

Draco nodded absently. “Good work. Is there anything else I am forgetting? It will probably be time to use the Portkey soon.”

Luna patted Draco’s hand comfortingly. “There is one thing you forgot, Draco. You didn’t eat anything today.” The group watched, flabbergasted, as Luna pulled out a sandwich and handed it to Draco cheerily. “It’s turkey and sprouts.” She told him proudly.

Draco found himself absurdly touched by the simple gesture, and he blinked in astonishment. “T-thank you.” He stuttered slightly in utter surprise, reaching out to take the sandwich. “You’re a good friend, Luna.” He took a small bite, cheeks slightly flushed. Caring gestures were sometimes like a foreign language to him, so he appreciated even the small ones. 

Charlie and Blaise both beamed at the Ravenclaw girl, happy that someone was taking care of their friend. Pansy just shook her head, unable to understand Luna and thus slightly wary of her. The others just shrugged and brushed it off as typical Luna nonsense. 

Draco continued to eat the sandwich, enjoying the slightly weird taste because it meant someone had thought of him. As he ate and the attention of the other’s slid elsewhere, Draco checked his two wands in their sheaths. His typical holly wand was placed in a holster on his left forearm for easy drawing, and he had his unregistered wand in a concealed holster strapped to his right outer thigh. Although he typically used his right hand in his Hogwarts wand-work, Draco was left-handed. Perhaps many would consider him ambidextrous. Most Pureblood parents ensured that their children used their right hands, because most equipment was made for right-handed witches or wizards. Because Draco’s parents were no exception, he could utilize both hands for casting and writing, as well as a variety of other tasks. 

He would have to be strategic about the use of his unregistered wand, with so many Weasleys around. However, he had already practiced a bit with both wands and found that the unregistered wand was much more suited to him, meaning that the spells were faster and more powerful when he used the silver lime wood wand. In a duel with Death Eaters, those few seconds could be crucial. Draco knew he would have to carefully balance his need for secrecy with his need to protect himself and his friends. 

Finishing off the food, Draco watched the others discuss the plans, content to stay aside and observe. Blaise sidled up beside him, murmuring in his ear, “Remember what we discussed…you promised to use _Obliviate_ if necessary.” 

Draco’s blank face dropped into a slight frown, annoyed at the reminder. “I remember, damn you.” He sighed back. 

Blaise was referring to something Severus and the other Slytherins had made Draco promise when the discussion of this plan had come up. Around those he was more open with, Draco had never made secret his hatred of the _Obliviate_ spell. He considered it on par with the Unforgiveables: _Crucio_ was a torture curse, _Imperio_ was a body-control curse, _Avada Kedavra_ was a killing curse, and _Obliviate_ was a mind-control curse. Perhaps due to his father’s use of a quasi- _Imperio_ curse, Draco was completely against any form of curse that interfered with the free will of another person. He had always made clear his disdain that a spell like _Crucio_ would be considered an Unforgiveable while _Obliviate_ was widely used. 

The fact that his housemates had elicited such a promise from Draco made him angry, but he had been unable to convince them to agree to having so many outsiders involved without the promise. 

Catching Charlie’s eye, he noticed that Bill was momentarily distracted by the twins. Draco walked to Charlie casually, passing by him but murmuring, “I am putting myself under the ax here. Make sure their scruples don’t get in our way.” Knowing what he did about a Seer’s bond and vow, he was coming to believe that his promise was even more troublesome than he had expected. Failure to keep the promise could have unexpected consequences upon his Sight, yet if he was forced to use _Obliviate_ , he would hate himself immensely.

Just then, he heard Viktor’s words, _In position. Potter and Diggory are nearly there._

Not allowing Charlie a chance to question him, Draco touched the Seer’s blindfold and silver collar unconsciously as he gathered his strength, pushing back the shaky feeling the abandonment of adrenaline had left him with. After a moment, he spoke. “It’s time to go. The Champions have reached the end of the maze.” Eight pairs of eyes looked him with various degrees of nervousness, and the weight of their collective gazes was unnerving.

Setting the Portkey onto the ground, Draco carefully unwrapped the cloth around it. “On three.” His voice was calm and steady, but he felt anything but. Pansy threw the Invisibility Cloak over her shoulders, ready to collect evidence in case they needed it later. Draco felt her hands clutching the back of his robes, seeking assurance. Luna pressed close to his right side, still smiling brightly. The others crowded around the cup, Charlie coming beside Draco on the left. 

Taking a deep breath, Draco began, “1, 2, 3…” on three, they all joined hands. Draco lunged forward and grasped the cup. 

They landed in a circle of Death Eaters, immediately drawing their wands and flinging curses in all directions. The group against the Death Eaters quickly split into smaller groups, shielding each other and taking out opponents in tandem. The Weasleys stuck together, and Blaise and Luna backed Draco up. 

Shouts of surprise and choked noises of pain sounded throughout the Little Hangleton graveyard; the Death Eaters certainly weren’t expecting a fight. Draco’s concentration wavered at the arrival of Viktor and Fleur and he earned a cut to the head for his inattention. 

They had taken out a considerable amount by their surprise entrance, but not nearly enough. Out of the approximate thirty Draco could spot, only nine or so were currently incapacitated. 

Draco found himself back-to-back with Viktor, casting in tandem. Because of their bond, they could draw strength from the other and cast more powerful spells. As they cut down several Death Eaters, Draco saw what he had been looking for: Peter Pettigrew, carrying Voldemort’s weakened form. 

Breaking away from Viktor, Draco drew his other wand and shot a dark, rather sadistic curse: the Entrail-Expelling curse. Draco was good at dueling precisely because he used spells in an unconventional way. The Entrail-Expelling curse was intended for use in medical centers, but it was applicable in situations like this one also. 

Pettigrew collapsed to the ground, moaning in pain and clutching his abdomen, nearly fainting when he saw his own organs inches away. Seeing the coward disabled, Draco quickly switched wands and continued to take out the Death Eaters. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Blaise hit with a cutting curse and fall. Luna continued to shield them both and pulled him into cover, taking a defensive position and attacking the Death Eaters who got too close. 

Diving, Draco got out of the way just in time as a green lit curse passed over his frame. Sweating at the close call, he shot back a _Confrigo_ and quickly moved toward the Weasleys, unwilling to leave his back open again like that. 

Things were proceeding just like his vision, so even though Draco knew what was coming next, he knew better than to hold back when a blood-red curse was cast at Charlie’s back. Flinging himself in front of the curse, lacerations appeared across Draco’s body and he crumpled to the ground. 

It was the motivation the others needed to finish the fight, but Charlie was frantic, quickly pulling Draco to cover and slapping his cheeks, yelling at him to stay awake. 

Draco could feel blood dribbling down his forehead and soaking his Seer’s cloth. He blinked it from his eyes, feeling fuzzy. “Don’t worry about me and take care of the rest of those bastards,” Draco coughed, blood coating his lips. “I’ll be fine.” He closed his eyes, confident that things would play out per his visions. The Aurors arrived just as his consciousness slipped away. 

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When he awoke, it was to pain. Reminding himself that trying to open one’s eyes when one had just taken a slashing curse to the face was not wise, Draco cracked open his uninjured eye, taking in white-washed walls and an awful, Potions-reminiscent taste in his mouth. He carefully swiveled his head, attempting to see if he had company in the room. 

To his surprise, Ginny Weasley sat at his bedside, nose shoved into a book. Apparently, she heard him shifting around, because she looked up and met his eyes. “Finally awake? It was getting pretty boring here.” She paused, taking in his expression, before chuckling. “Everyone’s fine, the Death Eaters were arrested. Well, mostly. Pettigrew and You-Know-Who’s Wraith or whatever that was escaped, though. Damn Aurors.” 

Draco attempted to respond. His voice came out croaky, but understandable. “Any injuries?” 

Ginny set her book aside and leaned forward. “Your friend Blaise took a relatively minor cutting curse, and George got a nasty jinx that sliced halfway through his leg. But they made it to Mungo’s in time and they’re fine. You took the worst of it.” With a small smile, she added, “Thank you for that, by the way. Charlie says you saved his life. I had my reservations about you, but Charlie seemed so sure that you were a good guy beneath all that nastiness…guess he was right.” 

Draco snorted. “Hardly. I didn’t exactly do this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m not good, I’m reasonable. And taking out a threat to myself is a reasonable thing to do.” He folded his arms over his chest. “What did they say about my eye?” 

Ginny’s bright eyes watched him carefully. “If you say so. You’ll make a full recovery, no vision problems. They did say you’ll have a nasty curse scar, though. Forehead to jaw.” 

Draco’s eye flicked away. “Lovely. Any other messages to impart before I begin ignoring you, Weasley?” 

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Ginny. Based on your grades, you should be able to remember my name, as well as manage civility, if you can’t stomach friendliness.” 

Draco started to roll his eyes, then stopped, realizing it would probably be impossible to roll one eye only (and it would likely look ridiculous). “Touché. I assume Charlie is visiting George, and that’s why you were appointed watch dog?” 

Ginny shrugged. “That’s about right. I also feel I should warn you that Hermione noticed the absences at the Tournament. By now she probably knows about George’s injury and is beginning to put things together. Anyways, now that you’re awake, guess I better go find your girlfriend. She was visiting Blaise for a few minutes.” 

Draco didn’t correct her, not wanting to prolong the conversation further than strictly necessary. Instead, he closed his eye and flopped back against the pillows, suppressing a yawn. 

A few minutes later, Draco looked up to see both Charlie and Pansy enter the room. “Good to see you’re awake. Things didn’t look to great for a while there.” Pansy stepped close to his bed and gave him a gentle hug. 

Draco’s eye slid to Charlie, who was still wearing bloodstained clothes. “You look like you just took on a troll and lost. Badly. I’m assuming that’s my blood, but I’m fine, so go make yourself presentable. That’s disgusting.” 

Pansy chuckled. “See, if he’s well enough to complain, he’s well enough to get the hell out of St. Mungo’s. And he’s right, you do look like shit. Your mob of a family already took your brother home, and Blaise just left. I’m assuming you can walk, Draco?” 

The blonde Malfoy grimaced. “Even if I can’t, I will anyways to get out of here.” He swung his legs over the bed, testing his weight and finding it manageable. “Prophet say anything yet?” 

Charlie swooped over to his side, taking his arm unnecessarily. “Unfortunately, yes. Rita Skeeter somehow found out who was injured. Sorry, but you’re on the front page.”

Pansy snickered. “There’s already widespread speculation about your ‘turn to the light,’ was that how that bitch Skeeter said it? You’re the unexpected hero…it makes a great story. Probably helps that you’re far more attractive than Potter. Face sells more papers.” 

Draco gave her a look, and she shut up with a nervous laugh. “Fucking great.” He muttered lowly, shuffling toward the door with a massive scowl planted on his face. “Does that mean I’m going to get harassed as I leave?” 

Pansy smirked. “Luckily, I am a wonderful friend and acquired this.” She waved what he assumed was a Portkey in his face. Turning to Charlie, she quipped, “Coming or staying, Weasley?” 

“Eh, I think I’ll Apparate home, but thanks.” He glanced up to meet Draco’s eye. “Pansy has the instructions from the doctor for your curse scar care. Make sure you take care of it, or you’ll end up back in here. We’ll talk later, when you’re feeling better.” He patted Draco’s shoulder and stepped back, lifting his wand and Apparating away. 

Pansy held out the Portkey. “Ready, Drake?” 

Draco lifted his hand and grasped the ripped paper cup wordlessly, too tired to berate her for the stupid nickname. He barely remembered arriving in the dungeon, or stumbling to his bed.

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When he awoke, he was unexpectedly surrounded by white again. Glancing around (again careful to only open one eye), he found that he was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.   
Pomfrey was bustling about, and she seemed to notice that he had awakened. He didn’t say anything, but he must have looked puzzled. She strode to his bedside and spoke without prompting, “Mr. Goyle brought you here. He said you were thrashing about in your sleep, clutching your head. None of your housemates could wake you.” 

Draco pressed his lips together, but didn’t respond to the implicit question. Instead, he changed the subject. “How long will it be until my eye is healed?” he asked. 

Pomfrey paused, watching him with shrewd eyes. “Perhaps a day or two. Come by in the morning before your classes for the next few days, and I will check the healing progress.” She leaned over and grasped a potion. 

Draco recognized it swiftly. “Dreamless Sleep? It won’t help. It causes a reaction…I suppose you could call it an allergy. I appreciate the thought, but it is probably for the best that I don’t take any sort of sleep aid mixture.”

She made as if to protest, but sighed when she took in his determined face. “Mr. Malfoy, you have visited me more often this year than even Mr. Potter, a remarkable achievement. Considering the news following the Tournament, I can see now that it is unsurprising. However, there are some issues that came to light recently that we really must discuss. I have called Severus here, as he is your Head of House. Before he arrives, I would like to ask privately about the scars on your back. Mr. Malfoy…Draco, I know what whip scars look like.” 

Draco’s heart leapt into his throat. He kept silent and avoided her eyes, unsure what to say. Likely, she had already formed some sort of assumption regarding the injuries. Unfortunately, it was also likely that her assumption contained an element of truth. Regardless of what he said, this would certainly be passed along to the higher-ups of the school, namely, Dumbledore. Refusing to comment would make him appear as if in fear of his father, so it was best to say something, a modicum of the truth. “Whatever you think it is…that guess is probably about right.” He said finally, glancing up with cold eyes to gauge her reaction. “Furthermore, you know that such an accusation will get me nowhere. I have done what I can to protect myself.” 

Pomfrey drew in a startled breath, whether because Draco had told the truth or because of sympathy or revulsion for the injuries Draco was unsure. “You must know that Dumbledore—” 

Draco interrupted that sentence immediately, posture rigid and unyielding. “I do not desire Dumbledore’s help, his interference, nor his concern!” he snapped. “I have chosen my own path. It does not lie in the direction of Harry Potter’s path.” Under his breath, too quietly for her to hear, he continued, “the direction of martyrdom.” 

Cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal, Pomfrey kept her voice soothing and gentle. “Draco, despite how your father may have raised you, accepting help from others is not a weakness. Without Dumbledore’s help, it will be difficult for you. Both sides will view you as their enemy.” 

Deciding this topic needed to be finished, Draco simply responded, “So be it. It is my decision and you will not convince me otherwise. Please tell Professor Snape to come in now. I would like to speak with him.” 

Pomfrey looked regretful, but she dropped the subject, probably intending to broach it at a later date. “Yes, of course. I will send him in.” She stepped out of the room and returned a few moments later with Severus. 

Draco’s Head of House immediately swooped toward the bed Draco was sitting in, a grimace painting his pale face. Draco noticed something in his hands moments before the older man thrust it toward him. “The Prophet.” Snape told him, a bit unnecessarily. “You’re on the front page.” 

Looking away from his mentor, Draco scanned the newspaper, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the rather cringeworthy photograph of himself smirking at the camera. It was similar to Skeeter’s usual garbage, although certainly more complimentary of him than, say, Potter. Regrettably, in these sort of circumstances, Draco would have much preferred to be disregarded, or even bad-mouthed as a bigoted heir of a rich Pureblood family. Instead, the article practically painted him as a hero. He glanced up steadily, meeting Severus’s eyes. He immediately understood his Head of House’s concern.   
Severus’s lips pressed together in disapproval. “You understand, then, that with such an article, your father will react negatively. He has read the article already and is in the process of disownment.” 

Draco closed his eye, allowing himself a moment of something like regret. “I knew it was a possible consequence and I accepted it. Obviously, it isn’t what I would have preferred, but the cost of continuing under my father’s orders is impossible for me. Doubly so with this.” He shook the newspaper slightly before refolding it and handing it back to Severus. 

Severus’s eyes were hawk-like, pinning him in place. “Yes, I knew as much. Things are worse than that, though. Your mother contacted me.” 

Draco’s whole body went still at those words. He had no words, but there was a stinging feeling in his chest. He was unable to do anything but listen as Snape continued. 

“Not only is your father going to disown you, but he is taking it drastically further. He plans to disconnect you from the Malfoy family magic.” Severus continued to watch Draco closely. 

It felt as if someone had punched him in the gut and then submerged him in cold water. He stared at Severus in complete shock, incapable of anything but shocked silence. Severus allowed him time to collect himself. 

Finally, he croaked out, “That will kill me. I’ll be dead by nightfall. Severus, can’t you...?” he looked at his mentor with pleading eyes. 

Severus Snape actually looked regretful. Draco knew him well enough to see that it was painful for Severus to respond. “Draco…you know I would if I could. But more lives than one are at stake here. I made a vow to Dumbledore that I cannot break, even for your sake. I’m sorry. But I will find another way.” 

Draco swallowed with difficulty, fighting the emotion down and meeting Severus’s eyes. “I’m sorry, too. It was unworthy of me to ask such a thing.” A muscle in his jaw fluttered in agitation. Never in his wildest projections did Draco anticipate that his father would be capable of filicide. And his mother…he didn’t even want to begin to contemplate her part in all of this. 

“Thank you for notifying me.” Draco said finally. “You don’t have to stay.” He looked away. 

Severus’s sharp tone promptly brought his gaze back up. “I can’t stay. But I won’t let you die because of your own flesh and blood.” He swept out, pausing at the door. “There are other visitors waiting to see you. If you need time to collect yourself…” he stopped meaningfully. 

Draco took the hint. Not friendly company then, exactly. “I am fine. Thank you, Severus. For everything.” Despite the Hufflepuff sentiment, the thought of never saying such a thing to the man who was practically his surrogate father was far more upsetting than letting his emotions take control for a brief moment.

Not deigning that with an answer, likely because Severus was determined not to acknowledge the life-threatening danger Draco was in, the Potions Professor exited the room without looking back.   
Draco idly wondered if that was the last time he would see Severus Snape. Despite the terrible news and the turmoil that had taken place in the last few days, Draco’s face was strangely blank and cool. He was probably suffering from a small degree of shock: being told your life was in danger tended to do that. Regardless, if it helped him to turn away from his emotions at the time, it was an unexpected gift. 

He knew from Severus’s hint that his next guests were not friends, but he hardly expected the Golden Trio to enter the Hospital Wing and head toward him. Draco regarded them expressionlessly.  
The three exchanged glances between themselves before, surprisingly, Weasley spoke up first. He looked Draco in the eye, another wonder. “We heard from Ginny about everything you did.” He began. When Draco didn’t respond, he hastily continued, “The Aurors questioned everyone you involved, allowed Bill to submit a Pensieve memory of everything that happened as proof.”   
Again, Draco said nothing. His silence seemed to unnerve the Trio. 

Potter took over. “Look, Malfoy, you were the one who told me that Sirius was my godfather last year. I had no idea before that. And, well, Pettigrew was one of the Death Eaters you encountered. Even though he escaped, the Pensieve was enough for Sirius to be exonerated, with Dumbledore’s input.”

The only sound in the room for several long moments was the clock ticking. Realizing that he was expected to respond to that, Draco finally said, “It was not my goal to get Black off the hook. It was merely an unintended externality.” 

Potter frowned at his nonchalance. “Even so, Sirius is important to me, and you helped him. So I want to repay you, somehow.” 

“There is nothing that you can give me that I want, Potter.” Draco stated plainly. As he spoke, his mind was racing along the path of a different possibility. Sirius Black. His cousin, Sirius Black. Could it be possible…? “Though, perhaps, your godfather might have an adequate way to repay me. Bring him here, now. There’s no time—” he cut himself off, unwilling to betray his current state to several people he didn’t trust. “It is urgent.” He ended curtly. 

Granger’s eyes upon him were suspicious. “What do you want with Sirius?” she questioned. Harry touched her arm, speaking to her softly. “There isn’t much he can do from a hospital bed, ‘Mione. If that’s what he asked for, I’m sure Sirius wouldn’t mind.” He stepped back from the bed. “Sirius should be with Dumbledore. I’ll just find him and come back, it shouldn’t take long, Malfoy.” 

Draco simply nodded. To his surprise, Granger and the younger Weasley remained behind, declining to go with Harry. 

There was a long period of awkward silence before Weasley coughed. “Erm…Malfoy. Your eye, it will heal, right?” 

Unable to muster up the energy for an abrasive reply, Draco simply inclined his head. “Per Pomfrey and the Mediwizards at St. Mungo’s, yes.” 

Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Charlie said you saved his life. So, I reckon I owe you one too, Malfoy.” 

As the Gryffindor continued to speak, Draco could feel the weakness creeping in. He didn’t have much time, any moment now the ripping pain would begin. 

The doors burst open and Severus swept inside. Ignoring the two startled Gryffindors, Snape went right to Draco’s side and began speaking lowly, “It’s not ideal, but Minerva is willing. I have contacted Augusta Longbottom, but she is too far away to be of assistance. You might have to take your chances with a half-blood family.” 

Draco’s eyelid fluttered, and heat flooded his body. Thickly, he got out, “Sirius Black.” 

It was then that Severus noticed the two Gryffindors in the room, and the conspicuous absence of their leader. A wry smirk twisted his lips. “Even in ill health, brilliant as always. I hadn’t considered Black. Foolish of me.” 

Hermione and Ron could hear the conversation, but weren’t able to make much sense of it. However, Hermione took a closer look at Draco’s complexion and grew concerned. “Are you feeling okay?” He was flushed and a nerve in his jaw was jumping with his pulse. 

Her question drew Severus’s attention to Draco. He cursed, shocking Hermione and Ron, and leaned in, assessing Draco’s condition. “It’s beginning already?” he probed. 

Draco, jaw clenched tight in discomfort, nodded once. His skin felt prickly all over, as if his whole body had fallen asleep. It was unpleasant but not yet painful. However, he knew that it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t in danger of dying, but certainly he would be feeling some fairly intense pain before Black was able to help with anything. 

“Professor? Is he ill? Contagious?” Granger piped up.

Severus sent her a venomous look. “Pomfrey would hardly let you in if it was contagious. The answer to your first question is obvious. How long ago did Potter leave?” 

Hermione pursed her lips at his tone. “Not five minutes ago. Professor, what is going on?” 

Severus did not deign to reply, hovering at Draco’s bedside. “Draco, can you hear me? I need you to stay as still as possible and try to relax.” 

“Mal –” Ron’s voice seemed to stick in his throat, the rest unable to come out. Horrified realization crossed his features at once. “Oh, bloody hell.” He dropped into a nearby chair and put his head in his hands, refusing to look at Draco. “He disconnected you, didn’t he?” His voice betrayed his shock. “Bloody hell.” He said again. 

Severus sneered at him. “Thank you for that generous contribution, Weasley.” He snarked, attention totally focused on Draco, who was inhaling labored breaths, his non-bandaged eye unfocused. 

Suddenly, Draco’s limbs began to tremble, and there was an almost electrical snap of magic in the air. Draco felt as if someone abruptly began trying to rip his organs from his body with their bare hands. Despite his best efforts, a small whine of pain slipped through his lips. He had never been very good at enduring pain, despite the numerous occasions he had experienced it. 

Hermione, unable to take not knowing what was going on any longer, moved to the bed on the opposite side of Snape, voice frustrated. “What is going on? What’s happening?” she nearly shouted. 

“Quiet! Get back, he doesn’t need your nose stuck into this,” Snape snapped back, gaze whipping to Ron with a non-verbal order. 

Ron, knowing what was going on, moved to Hermione’s side and guided her away from the bed. “Just…give him some space, Hermione. I’ll explain later.” 

Several moments continued along a similar vein; Draco shaking and making sharp, short noises of pain. The tense atmosphere was broken when the doors swung open, admitting Harry, Sirius, and Dumbledore. 

All eyes were drawn straight to Draco, who was struggling on the bed, face paler than usual and sweat beading at his brow. Sirius and Dumbledore understood what was going on almost immediately. He made eye contact. “You three wait outside.” He ordered speedily, ignoring Harry’s protests. Ron and Harry bundled Hermione out of the room, Harry because of Sirius’s words and Ron because he could guess what was going on. 

Severus grudgingly met Sirius’s eyes. “Can you help him?” he forced out, pride stinging. 

Sirius simply nodded, setting old grudges aside for the moment. Draco wasn’t Snivelus, after all. “We need to set up a barrier spell. Dumbledore?” he turned to the Headmaster, who nodded seriously and waved his wand with a few muttered words. 

The three men surrounded Draco, who was half-delirious with pain. 

Sirius lifted his wand and touched it to Draco’s forehead. “I accept Draco, son of none, into the House of Black. May his magic join our Most Noble House’s. _Annexus_.” A great surge of magic surged from Sirius’s wand to Draco with a whoomph sound. 

Draco slumped back against the headboard, out cold as the spell’s energies lingered in the air. 

Dumbledore dispelled the barrier, a thoughtful look on his face. Sirius wiped the sheen of sweat from his face and took a deep breath. “Well. Not every day you adopt a cousin into the family.” He said lightheartedly. 

Severus stepped back and collapsed into a chair, suppressing a sigh of relief. He ignored Black and Dumbledore’s quiet conversation and took a few moments to compose himself. 

As if sensing things had finished inside the room, the Gryffindor Trio stepped back into the room, peering around nervously. Or, in Granger’s case, curiously. 

Dumbledore turned to his favorite students with a smile. “It is best that we leave young Draco to get some rest now. If you have questions, I will answer them in my office.” He made eye contact with Severus meaningfully. The Potions Master shook his head, wordlessly communicating his disapproval. Despite his loathing of being anywhere near Sirius Black, he wasn’t about to leave his godson alone with the man. 

When the children had left with the Headmaster, Sirius turned to his childhood enemy. “This kid is something else.” He commented offhandedly. “Creating his own mini-army and going toe-to-toe with Voldemort. How did he even know? I’m assuming you didn’t tell him.” 

Severus sighed, and shot Black an irritated look. “Of course I didn’t. Draco refused to say, other than that he ‘had his sources.’ I assume he somehow overheard his father discussing it, or an…associate of Lucius’s. He does have a flair for the dramatic.” 

Sirius tried not to grin at Severus’s grumpy look. He did so enjoy making the Potions Master angry, but now was not the time. “I’d like to talk to the kid once he wakes up. Tell him to send me an Owl when it’s convenient.” With a jaunty wave, he left the room to go find his godson. 

Severus allowed his head to thump into his hands, annoyance and weariness warring for control. Annoyance won, and he took it out on the nearby cabinet by standing and giving the furniture an unwarranted kick strong enough to rattle the contents inside. With a grunt, he turned on his heel and headed toward Dumbledore’s office.

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

As Draco slept, many things took place. Discussions abounded concerning the captured Barty Crouch Jr., who had attempted to isolate Harry after the Boy-Who-Lived had neglected to disappear via Portkey. It was assumed that Voldemort, having failed to acquire what he was after, would simply seek a more convenient way. Hermione was finally able to share with her friends what had happened in her search for Rita Skeeter’s spying method, and her subsequent capture of the pesky reporter in a jar. Draco’s friends anxiously waited for him to awake, paranoid and watching those around them for any threatening move. The Weasleys, all of whom were present for the Triwizard Tournament, enjoyed some family time together. That evening, Harry dreamed of Voldemort’s revival and the death of a young woman wearing a set of pressed Ministry robes. 

Madame Pomfrey informed all those who asked that Draco’s unconsciousness was expected. His father had withdrawn the family magic with the intent to destabilize Draco’s entire system, which often lead to death. With Sirius’s gift of Black family magic, Draco’s core had stabilized, but was wounded from the Malfoy magic being ripped out of him and needed time to recover. 

Hermione had been fascinated by the process. She had not known that Pureblooded families were so deeply connected to the generations of magic, or that simply being disowned could endanger a Pureblood’s life. Ron tried to explain that most people who were disowned were allowed to retain their connection to the family magic for that reason, and that there were very few cases of a Family Head actually going through with magical disconnection in addition to disownment. Those who did so either expected the disowned person to be swiftly adopted into another family, or were intending murder.   
Ron also quietly remarked that he suspected Lucius Malfoy had the latter purpose in mind. 

As the days passed, more information about the entire situation with the Death Eaters and the Triwizard Tournament surfaced, unravelling the complexity of the plot Barty Crouch Jr. had established. The wider population of Hogwarts was deeply confused about Draco’s apparent change of heart, their memories of the stuck-up Pureblood clashing with the pictures the newspapers painted. However, the Champions who had participated in the Tournament, especially Cedric Diggory (who had tied for first place with Harry Potter), understood exactly what they had been spared, and were amazed and appreciative of Draco’s actions. 

Draco remained unconscious for many days, and the end of classes passed as he slumbered. Reluctantly, his friends headed to their homes for summer break. They stopped in several times to visit him and leave small gifts. Blaise left copies of all the newspapers raving accolades and commendations of Draco’s heroic actions, finding the overblown prose extremely amusing. All those who had participated in the fight against the Death Eaters requested to be notified when Draco awoke, worrying for their friend (with the exception of Fred, George, Ginny, and Bill Weasley, who knew that Charlie would keep up with Draco’s condition in their stead). 

Sirius and Harry remained at Hogwarts because Sirius needed to speak with Draco about what had taken place. Harry had decided, despite Dumbledore’s advice, to stay with Sirius, and refused to return to the Dursley’s. The professors and adults who were involved in the fight against the Dark Lord were at a loss when they considered Draco. Severus repeatedly assured them that Draco would want nothing to do with the fledgling Order of the Phoenix, and especially Dumbledore’s leadership. However, many Order members felt that Draco required their protection, and that they couldn’t let an asset of Draco’s caliber, who had a lot of information about Pureblood families and the Death Eaters, slip through their grasp. Eventually, they decided to shelf the discussion until Draco awoke. 

With Moody’s departure from the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher post, discussions began about who would carry on the post. The Ministry interfered, and it was expected that a high-ranking Ministry employee would take the post. 

Due to the happenings with Hagrid and the concerns about him being half-giant, Charlie Weasley offered to co-teach the Care of Magical Creatures class. This would also serve to allow another Order member to be present at Hogwarts. Although not the main purpose of the suggestion, Charlie decided it wouldn’t hurt to stick around a bit longer for Draco’s sake. The Dragon Keepers reassured Charlie that his job would remain open, as he had talent as a dragon keeper and they were not willing to let him go permanently. 

Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum returned to their respective countries, although both had plans to return to England. Fleur wished to pursue a career in England to improve her English (and quite possibly to get to know Bill Weasley, who had caught her eye). Viktor toyed with the idea of transferring to Hogwarts, but ultimately decided that he did not want to put his Quidditch career on hold and that it would be best for him to remain in Bulgaria. However, because of his blood bond with Draco, he knew he would remain in close contact. He also urged Charlie to tell Draco that the younger boy was welcome in Bulgaria should the danger become too great in England. 

Although Lucius Malfoy did not notify the newspapers of Draco’s disownment, the news spread quickly on its own, likely because Draco could no longer be called by his former last name. Because of the Malfoy patriarch’s actions, the ambiguity surrounded his possible Death Eater status was mostly lifted, except for the Ministry of Magic. Those who had children at Hogwarts certainly knew, however, that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy certainly had an affiliation to Voldemort still. 

Fourteen days after his disownment, Draco finally woke up. He felt rested, but weak from lying in bed for two weeks. The wound over his eye had healed, and his vision was completely recovered, although he did have a faint curse scar across his face. He was not amused at the newspapers Blaise had left, and found himself rolling his eyes in exasperation at his friend’s antics. A small smile crossed his face, regardless. After some food and a shower, he spoke briefly with Sirius, who had explained a few intricacies relating to the Black magic. 

To Draco’s surprise and slight disappointment, the new family magic connection certainly altered his casting ability. He found his Seer abilities greatly amplified, almost to the point of overpowering the artifacts he had retrieved before the Third Task. The Black family had more of a history of Seers in their bloodline. Draco found his offensive and defensive wand spells he typically used when dueling to be reduced in power compared to before. Conversely, his Charms ability was boosted significantly. His Transfiguration ability was really the only thing that remained relatively the same. 

As Draco’s strength grew, he knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was coerced to attend an Order meeting. To avoid this, he secretly withdrew some funds from his personal account and converted it to Muggle money. He had sent an Owl to Tracey Davis, one of the few Slytherin students who was familiar with the Muggle world, around a week ago. Draco planned to meet her in Hogsmeade the next day and slip away before the next Order meeting took place.

Draco had decided, with Snape’s advice, to spend the summer in the Muggle world. This allowed him to avoid his father and any who might wish to harm him. Sometime during the summer, Severus promised to visit Draco’s chateau and make sure that, if he were to stay there in the future, Lucius wouldn’t be able to find him or enter the property. 

To learn to survive, Tracey would guide him through Muggle London and its various diversions for just over a week, and Draco would pay her for her troubles. She would help him fit in and to obtain a summer job to sufficiently occupy his time. 

Draco was not quite sure how he felt about the abrupt 180 degree turn his life had taken, but he certainly wasn’t complaining about being alive and free to make choices for himself. He knew that, come next year, he would be an entirely different person with entirely different experiences. 

Thankfully, after the conclusion of the Tournament, he had been spared from experiencing any freaky visions or premonitions. His Sight, though strengthened by his newfound connection to the Black magics, stayed silent and passive. He was still able to see Voices of people in various colors, although in the Muggle world, many were a simple white. 

One other thing had happened after he awoke from his near coma, and it had surprised the hell out of him. 

With the Malfoy magic purged from his system, the last lingering effects of his father’s curses dissipated. To Draco’s complete shock, he found that his father had suppressed some of his memories. Draco unexpectedly began to remember things he hadn’t known before: knowledge of Voldemort’s prowess at possession, information about the vampire clans and their hierarchy, childhood memories, times he had stumbled across hidden items and information Lucius did not intend for him to…there were too many memories to keep track of, and the process of trying to find the new information that had integrated itself seamlessly into his brain took time and concentrated effort. 

The return of the memories also had an unexpected consequence. Throughout his entire life, Draco had lamented his own white voice, finding it boring and depressing. However, after the events of the Tournament, there had been a subtle change in the hue. It was still light-colored, but when Draco focused on the precise color…

_It’s silver. My Voice changed color to silver._


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
 _♠ Postmarked at the Leaky Cauldron ♠_  
Draco,   
S.S. informed us that you woke up and were healed. I expected a visit, but I suppose I can understand why you might be avoiding Pureblood circles now.   
Nevertheless, I still deserve an Owl, or at least some word that you are safe. Now I come to hear that you disappeared from Hogwarts without a trace? We’re worried, Draco. Please let us know that you’re okay. If you can’t contact me directly, contact Blaise at least. His family is neutral, communications won’t be traced back to you if you’re careful.   
I didn’t write just to berate you, I suppose. I am prolonging the inevitable. Look, Draco, I’ll be blunt. It’s difficult to be tactful about something like this. S.S. told us that Dolores Umbridge is our Defense teacher next year.   
You know what that means, and I can confirm that what you’re thinking is correct. Draco, I beg of you, don’t return to Hogwarts next year. Take a year off, go to the States, visit Viktor for a year…do anything but return to Hogwarts. All that awaits you here is danger, and none of us want to see you laid up in the Hospital Wing for weeks again.   
I don’t know where you are, but please let me know that you received this letter. Tell me that you’ll stay away next year. Please, Draco.   
I hope you’re staying out of trouble and doing well.   
Best wishes,   
Pansy Parkinson  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
♠ Postmarked at the Leaky Cauldron ♠  
Draco,   
Pans wrote you nearly a month ago. When we didn’t receive a response, we had to assume something was wrong. Greg and I met up in Hogsmeade and went to Hogwarts. We did some investigating. Turns out you were spotted with Tracey Davis the day before you disappeared. I guess that explains why no one has seen you. Muggles, Draco, really?   
I’m supposing you had little choice, so I’ll let you off the hook this time. We Owled Tracey and asked her to contact you on our behalf. She said she’ll be using “muggle methods,” whatever that means. Expect to hear from her soon.   
Since you clearly didn’t receive Pansy’s owl, this one might be a bit superfluous, but maybe it will get through somehow.   
Dolores Umbridge is our Defense teacher next year. STAY AWAY FROM HOGWARTS, Draco. It’s that simple. You’ll be in great danger if you return. Take some time off, transfer or exchange to another school, do anything but come back to Hogwarts. Before it’s too late.   
Let me know if you got this letter. You’re an arse for making us worry.   
Signed Very Impatiently,   
Blaise Zabini  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
Voice Message from +44 844 416 6230, Recorded July 29th at 5:53 P.M.  
“Draco, this is Tracey Davis. I’ve called several times in the last few days but haven’t been able to get a hold of you. Is everything okay? 

_Parkinson, Goyle, and Zabini want to talk to you. They said they’ve been sending Owls, and that you haven’t responded. None of my texts to you were read in the last week, either. I know you typically don’t respond, but at least before I knew you read them._

_Anyways, your friends are very worried, and I’m starting to get concerned as well. If I don’t hear from you by the end of the month, I’m going to call your work place. I might be overreacting, but this lack of communication is making everyone nervous._

_Anyways, give me a call back when you get his message. Bye, Draco.”_  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
Tracey Davis Tuesday, Aug. 3 at 10:34 A.M.  
To: d.black@outlook.com  
Draco, 

I called your boss and he said you haven’t been at work in weeks. What the hell? Do you know how hard I worked to find you that job?  
I’m trying not to be too mad before I know what’s up with you. Are you even in London anymore? Obviously, you don’t have your phone with you. That or you’re ignoring me. I certainly hope the latter option is not the case. 

Your friends are extremely worried, and they have some huge news about why you “absolutely cannot return to Hogwarts next year.” I don’t know what’s going on, but it seems very serious. 

Are you even alive? Parkinson has started talking about going to the Ministry and asking for a wand trace on you. Seriously, Draco, this is getting serious. Please let us know that you’re okay as soon as possible. I know you’re smart and that you want to do things on your own but making everyone who cares about you worry is not acceptable. 

Send your friend Blaise an Owl and call me as soon as your read this.   
Tracey  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
 _Draco,  
Contact us before August 25th. If you don’t, I’m sending this to the Ministry. This is just a copy. _

Attached:  
Ministry of Magic  
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division  
Official Documents Enclosed: Request for Wand Tracking, Missing Persons Case #735-689

_Pansy Parkinson  
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-  
Text Message Sent on August 24 at 8:33 P.M_  
Tracey, I’m fine. Relatively fine. Can’t send an Owl; tell Pansy not to send anything to the Aurors. That would completely fuck me over. 

_Text Message Sent on August 24 at 8:37 P.M_  
Sorry I got you involved in this bloody mess. I don’t know why they want me to stay away from Hogwarts, but it can’t be worse than what I’m facing out here. I’ll be out of touch again. Don’t let Pansy do anything stupid. 

_Text Message Sent on August 24 at 8:44 P.M_  
See you at Hogwarts.   
D.B.


End file.
